


Waves that Beat on Heaven’s Shore

by Jtargaryen18 (snowqueen79), snowqueen79



Series: Innocence [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dark!Bucky, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kindapping, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, dark bucky barnes, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2020-07-11 21:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19935016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowqueen79/pseuds/Jtargaryen18, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowqueen79/pseuds/snowqueen79
Summary: Because of changes made in the past when the Avengers reversed the Snap, anomalies occurred. A few people who “blipped” didn’t return once the Snap reversed. Likewise, a few people who died before the Snap inexplicably came back.One who returned was the daughter of a top lieutenant in HYDRA. Bucky Barnes knew she’d died before the Snap because he’d killed her himself. He’d been ordered to kill her along with her father who’d betrayed the terrorist organization while he was still the infamous Winter Soldier. Now she’s back, scared, and on the run from HYDRA operatives.As far as the world is concerned, the lovely young woman is dead. Bucky learns of her completely by chance, recognizing her delicate face as one of those who haunt the nightmares he can’t escape. He knows it’s only a matter of time before HYDRA catches her and he’s not convinced she knows anything that would earn her protection from SHIELD.Envious of his best friend’s newfound happiness in a relationship that didn’t have the most traditional beginning, Bucky decides to take advantage of the opportunity presented to him and take matters into his own hands…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Innocence Series
> 
> Both the title of the first story in this series and this one are taken from William Blake’s poem, Auguries of Innocence. The poem is a favorite of mine and speaks of both the joy and suffering of humankind. You will find both of these here in this story.
> 
> While it’s not going to be completely necessary to read All Heaven in a Rage to understand this story, we’ll be keeping up with the storylines from it – Steve, his girl (a reader), Nat, Bette, Claire, and the rest of our Avengers. I also did a different take on the Snappening than the MCU did so… 
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one, darker than AHIAR. It's a tale of unhealthy obsession and is intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.

“Buck? You okay?”

Steve Rogers’ voice lingered along the edges of his awareness as he studied the grainy, black and white print lifted from a security camera in Berlin. Two high-level HYDRA operatives they’d been after since the Triskelion fell were caught on the camera. It was the first solid lead they’d had on the two terrorists in months.

But that wasn’t what got Bucky Barnes’ attention. It was _her_.

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered, tossing the image back to the center of the table.

“Looks like we’re heading back to Berlin,” Natasha Romanoff said from the other side of the table. “At least we’re all on the same side this time.”

Tony Stark rolled his eyes, but Clint Barton thought it was funny, silently laughing from his seat next to him.

_Her face…_

A face Bucky never expected to see again except in his memories where he couldn’t escape it.

“You’re not going _anywhere_ ,” Clint winked at Nat. “How long now?”

“The baby is due in two weeks,” Nat said with a smile.

Bucky glanced up at the gorgeous spy, smiling. Natasha had been sterilized when she’d graduated from the Red Room’s training and had tried unsuccessfully for years to adopt a child from anywhere. He wasn’t entirely clear on all the details, but she’d found a young lady who was in the family way who was allowing her to adopt the child. The young mother in question was friends with Steve’s girl.

He was happy for Nat. People like them didn’t get happy moments like that often.

One thing he knew for certain. She’d be the world’s most protective mother.

“When do we go?” James Rhodes asked, still reading one of the endless intel reports they got from SHIELD every fucking day that no one else ever tried to read.

Bucky’s gaze kept darting back to that image. He couldn’t help it. That angel’s face had haunted his thoughts, his nightmares more times than he could count.

No, he _had_ to be mistaken. That or there was a girl who looked a hell of a lot like her in Berlin right now.

Because the girl in his memories? That girl was _dead_. He’d killed her himself as the Winter Soldier at HYDRA’s command.

“I’d like to make this a quick trip if we could,” Steve told them, arms folded across his chest where he sat at the other end of the table.

“Can’t think why,” Clint teased. “Probably doesn’t have _anything_ to do with having your girlfriend back.”

Steve smirked at that, not even trying to hide how happy he was to be moving into a new house he’d be sharing with his girl.

Bucky was happy for Steve too. Only he and Nat truly knew what his best friend from childhood went through to have that girl at his side again. Bucky knew what she meant to him.

“I’m shocked, honestly,” Clint went on. The poor dumb bastard really did have pitiful few survival instincts. “An old-fashioned guy like yourself, living outside of wedlock.”

Nat cocked a red brow at the archer.

Tony laughed. “Cap’s willing. It’s the potential bride that’s got cold feet.”

The smirk disappeared and Steve scrubbed a hand down over his beard. “Guys…”

“Give her time,” Nat said to the table in general. “She’ll come around. You have to admit the circumstances were highly unusual.”

_That’s putting it mildly._

Steve had found the girl after the Snap and got sweet on her. When she was resistant to Steve’s attempts to woo her -- Steve had never really been good with dames -- he decided to bring her home from the hospital after she’d gotten mugged and take care of her there. He’d thought she’d just get used to living there with him because he treated her well.

It hadn’t exactly worked out that way.

Steve’s girl _was_ a sweetheart. Too good for Steve, truly. And eventually, she’d come around to caring about him even though he was keeping her locked in his house. Steve hadn’t had a clue how to mentally condition someone in a situation like that and somehow – _somehow_ – he’d managed to win her over.

At least until they’d managed to reverse the Snap.

Then Steve had been forced to start over with her. But somehow between an interfering wizard, the return of fucking Rumlow, and Steve just being his stubborn, honest self, he’d made her fall in love him. Enough that she’d found them a house while he’d been out on a mission and they were moving in together.

Steve was antsy about things even so. His friend wanted the entire show with her, a wedding and kids too.

Bucky wasn’t too worried about Steve not getting those things. Nat was right. She’d come around.

Steve was just lucky he hadn’t lost her to Rumlow. How the universe had allowed _that_ fucker to return when the Snap was reversed, he had no idea.

_Wait. Could that be what happened?_

Bucky’s gaze drifted back to that image. To _her_ face in the shadows.

He really wanted a copy of that photograph.

Was it _her_? And was it possible that she’d returned when the Snap reversed as Rumlow had?

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Fury informed them, breaking into his thoughts. “You want to get back fast? Find those two.”

Fury pointed to the two operatives in the photo.

All Bucky saw was her.

With the meeting adjourned, Nat stayed to chat happily with Clint about the baby and how to keep expectant mothers happy. Tony, Rhodes, and Banner wandered back out toward the labs. Wanda nodded to Bucky as she made her way out. Bucky wandered out into the hallway, but a familiar voice stopped him.

“Buck, wait up,” Steve called out to him.

When Steve caught up to him, Bucky smiled. “I like the beard.”

Steve’s face darkened just a little at the comment.

“ _She_ likes the beard,” Bucky realized.

Steve grinned, “Yeah, she does.”

Bucky knew it.

“I should be able to get the rest of my stuff this evening if that’s okay,” Steve told him.

Bucky nodded.

“I’d like to hang onto my key,” Steve told him as they began to walk down the hallway.

Bucky had expected that. Steve had been mothering him since he’d gotten free of HYDRA. He didn’t expect that to let up anytime soon, even with a pretty dame to distract him. Steve was nothing if not stubborn.

“Are you going to be okay?” Steve asked finally, asking the question that Bucky knew had been eating at him. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m cutting out on you… I worry about you being alone.”

“I’ll be okay, Stevie,” Bucky assured him. Bucky was fine being alone. He hadn’t always been that way, but HYDRA had changed many things about him.

“You just seemed… I don’t know… distracted in the meeting, I guess,” Steve explained. “I just…”

Bucky smiled, stopped.

“Steve, I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before, but… I’m happy for you,” Bucky told him honestly. “After Carter, I didn’t think you’d ever find yourself another girl to settle down with. Now you have and she’s amazing. So what are you worrying about _my_ ass for?”

Steve’s expression fell. “It just feels… I don’t know. Selfish?”

Bucky shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest. “Yeah? Well, if the shoe were on the other foot, pal, and I’d found a sweet little girl like her? I wouldn’t be worrying about being selfish. I’d be kicking your ass out.”

Steve had to laugh at that, just as he’d intended.

“I’ll be around later,” Bucky told him. “Stop by and get your stuff any time.”

He could tell Steve didn’t believe him, but Bucky’s mind was spinning. At the moment, it was to his advantage to have Steve think his preoccupation was a result of his best friend moving out of the house they’d shared.

Leaving Steve there, Bucky made his way down to the elevator and down to the lower level. Quickly, he reached Fury’s office and when he didn't see the director, let himself in. It was ridiculously easy to get into the director’s computer system and pull up the files from the meeting he’d just attended. Taking out his phone, he got a shot of the image with the two operatives and the girl for himself.

Putting things back to rights, Bucky ducked out of the office and made his way towards the exit. He hopped on his motorcycle in the lot, cranked it up, and headed back to the house.

Bucky was grateful they were heading for Berlin in the morning.

He had to find her. He had to know who exactly that girl was.

_Was it her?_

Bucky’s memories weren’t perfect. HYDRA had seen to that. He remembered being awakened for that mission in early 2014. It was his last mission for HYDRA before he was activated to assassinate Nick Fury and help launch Project Insight. He remembered the order, specifically that he was to kill one of Alexander Pierce’s top lieutenants and his daughter in Berlin. They never gave him reasons. They just gave him orders.

It wasn’t until later after Bucky had been freed that he started to remember things. Often those memories would lead him to do some research. He tried desperately to remember the parts of his life that HYDRA tried to erase using electrical current and pain. Later he’d learn that the man he’d killed that day had betrayed HYDRA. He’d been compromised by SHIELD who’d offered him immunity for his daughter in exchange for anything he could give them on the terrorist organization.

Bucky had been ordered to neutralize them both before that exchange could ever take place. He hadn’t been able to determine who in SHIELD the HYDRA officer had been talking with, he just remembered finding them on a train headed for Paris.

_It had been easy to break into their car while they slept. Using a silencer, he’d put a bullet in the brain of the man while he slept._

Bucky sighed as he pulled his bike into the garage at the house and killed the engine.

Killing _her_? He remembered so clearly.

_She’d been on the lower bed and sound asleep when he’d leaned over her. He’d remembered being struck by how beautiful she was. He’d been told by his handler that she wasn’t a threat. It seemed her only crime was being her father’s daughter. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept, felt the sleepy warmth of her beneath him._

_Her eyes had flown open then, just as he’d aimed his gun at her. She’d drawn a deep breath, preparing to scream._

_Holstering the gun quickly, he’d clamped his own gloved hand down over her mouth and nose to keep her from drawing attention to them. With HYDRA’s hand, he’d wrapped the metal fingers around her throat and squeezed._

_Bucky remembered that she’d fought him with everything she had. She’d tried to kick him, to claw his hands away. She had such beautiful eyes... Tears had streamed from the corners of those eyes as they begged him for her life, begged him to let her go._

Blowing out an exhale, Bucky climbed off the bike, headed into his house. He dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs, pulling out his phone and accessing the photo. Now he could look at it all he wanted.

In the picture taken three days ago, she looked so scared. Her terror had been the familiarity that got his attention.

He remembered the terrible pounding of her heart as the life drained from her. He remembered the damp smell of lavender from her hair. The smell of lavender triggered the memories of that night, that kill. Every time.

More than once he’d awoken from the terrifying landscape of his dreams with her face in his mind… In those dark dreams, he was never able to stop himself. Never able to save the beautiful girl on the train…

Over time, Bucky had learned everything about her. Steve had gently tried to point out more than once that he had a morbid fascination with his victims and that it wasn’t good for him and his recovery.

Still, he’d dug up details on many of his victims from his decades with HYDRA, on some level trying to assuage his guilt. If they were bad people, he could maybe justify that he’d ended them even if their deaths hadn’t been his choice.

Most of the people he’d been sent to kill were guilty of something. Yeah, most of them had it coming.

_She didn’t._

It was the innocent blood he had on his hands that preyed on his mind. It was _their_ faces, their screams that woke him up in the darkest hours of the night. The innocent people HYDRA sent him to kill would haunt him forever. It was his penance, never letting himself forget them.

Maria Stark. Itsu Akihiro.

_Her._

She had no known ties to her father’s world. She’d studied ballet. She had a bachelor’s in history from the University of Richmond and had started a graduate program in London.

One old social media account of hers was still up, showing pictures of her in life. Smiling with friends on a trip to the beach. Enjoying a baseball game with other friends. Playing with a small black and white cat with big green eyes. Snuggled up to a nice young man with a kind face that reminded him a little of Steve before the serum.

She’d been such a bright, gorgeous light…

But her plans had been cut short when SHIELD got their hands on her father.

HYDRA sent Bucky to extinguish that light when her father betrayed them.

She hadn’t deserved that fate.

What had her laugh sounded like? How beautiful had her dance been?

Since they reversed the Snap, Steve had brought Bucky onto the Avengers team. Tony Stark barely acknowledged him, and Bucky understood why. Two of Bucky’s victims had been Tony’s parents. He hadn’t known Howard Stark well back in the day, but he remembered how much he’d admired the man. The remorse he had for their deaths… yeah, it was crippling at times.

And though they didn’t communicate, over the last few weeks, Bucky thought maybe Tony had come to realize that he did feel remorse. Tony tolerated Bucky for Steve’s sake and honestly, it was the best he could hope for. 

But after all that happened with Thanos, Bucky was no longer anyone’s biggest problem. Steve was distracted right now. Tony was planning his own wedding to Pepper.

Bucky would stay on in Berlin until he found her. He just had to know if the girl in that picture just bore a remarkable resemblance to that girl on the train from 2014.

Or if it was _her._

Just maybe she, like Rumlow, was an anomaly sent back to the land of the living.

Bucky scrubbed a hand down over his face, his beard, lost in his thoughts.

_What are you going to do if it is her?_

Heading to the master bedroom that Steve had just moved out of, he logged onto his own desktop computer, searched the web. He searched for her name, searched news articles, searched the HYDRA channels he thought he could check without being detected.

There was nothing solid about her or a girl matching her description since 2014.

The Snap had been reversed a few weeks ago. That she’d been alive three days ago was miraculous. HYDRA was likely aware of her already and if not, they soon would be. They could strike at any time. There was no evidence to suggest she knew how to navigate HYDRA’s world or defend herself. 

And from the records he was able to find and access, there didn’t appear to be anyone readily available to harbor her. Her mother had died when she was a child and she had no siblings. Her father had cut ties with his own family when he’d moved up within HYDRA so there was no one there to shelter her.

The boyfriend from 2013? Married. The friends? All in either the states or the UK.

“Bucky?”

Bucky checked the time on the computer. He’d been sitting there for over four hours.

“Buck?” Steve called from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he called as he rose from the office chair and closed out the computer.

Wandering out of the bedroom into the kitchen, he found Steve and his girl smiling at him in greeting.

Well, _she_ was smiling at him. Steve was giving him that concerned mother look and trying to smile over it.

“This a bad time?” Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Welcome to stay for dinner if you want to.”

“Can we?” she asked Steve, doing that thing with her eyes Steve could never say no to.

“Sounds good,” Steve said with a shrug.

“I’ll help cook,” she offered.

Bucky winked at her. “Deal.”

Steve had brought in a series of plastic tubs to clear the rest of his things from the closets in the master bedroom and the guestroom. He went to gather the rest of his stuff while his girl stayed there with Bucky.

Bucky started pulling everything out for dinner. A London broil he’d marinated, some vegetables to prepare, salad items.

“How’s Bette?” he asked about her pregnant friend.

The grin the question earned made him feel warm inside.

“Good,” she offered. “Anxious to have the baby already. She’s due in two weeks but Helen thinks she might arrive before that.”

“And Nat?”

Steve’s girl snorted. “I _hope_ she’ll be okay. She barely lets Bette go to the bathroom by herself.”

Bucky had no trouble believing that.

According to Steve, Natasha had stolen a baby girl out of the hospital after the Snap originally happened. She’d done her homework, selecting a child whose parents and some extended family were lost to the Snap. Nat was a mother to her for months until everything was reversed and apparently, she really loved the girl.

When the Snap was reversed, the baby’s parents were back, and Nat lost her. The spy had been in a very bad way when Bucky had first made it back from the reverse and it troubled him to see her that way. He’d never seen the beautiful spy in a level of depression anywhere close to that.

When he learned from Steve what happened, Bucky had been genuinely concerned. But he understood her actions and knew just how much she’d wanted a baby. At least things worked out now that she would have a child and be able to keep her. For all they were expected to do as Avengers, Bucky thought they deserved some measure of happiness.

When Steve went further into the story to tell him that _he’d_ taken the young woman in his kitchen, Bucky had been shocked.

_At first._

After thinking about it, he decided that he really didn’t take issue with Steve’s actions either. The beautiful girl getting started on their salad didn’t. Not now anyway. She loved Steve and the more time Bucky spent with her, the more he realized how perfect she was for his friend.

Through it all, Steve’s intentions had been good. He’d only wanted to help her, keep her safe. Steve Rogers had a heart of pure gold and it had taken time, but she’d seen that. And she remembered everything now, including when he’d actually held her hostage in the house he now solely owned.

“How’s everything with you and Steve?” Bucky asked as he started stripping potatoes.

Color darkened her face only a second before she smiled. “Very good. The new house is wonderful. It’s going to take forever to get it all painted and patched but it’s fun.”

_See?_ Steve’s girl was blushing, happy. And Steve hadn’t really had a clue what he was doing when he took her. But now Steve was happier than he’d ever seen him.

Bucky hadn’t given a lot of thought of ever trying to find someone after his own captivity at the hands of HYDRA. At first, he hadn’t been stable, the damn codes had still been in his head. It wouldn’t have been safe for him to try and date or be in a relationship. It had been a struggle just to try and live a normal life in a time he wasn’t from.

Now, though? Things were different. Bucky was pretty stable. _Most days._ Perhaps he was ready to find a pretty dame of his own now.

_Maybe you already have._

If she could be anything like Steve’s girl? Loving and warm?

Steve strolled out with the first tub filled with his stuff. The look exchanged between his pal and his girl made Bucky’s longing worse. What would it be like to have a gorgeous woman look at _him_ that way? How long had it been since he'd known any affection of that type at all?

What it would be like to have _her_ look at him that way?

Bucky shook his head to clear it. Tomorrow, they’d head to Berlin and he’d see if he could solve the mystery of the girl in that photo. He’d find out whether she was the one he killed on the train or if she were someone else. He'd decide what to do from there.

For now, he’d enjoy an evening with his friends and relax. It might be the last downtime he got for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one. It's intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.

The lock on the door of the small dingy hotel room where you were staying clicked, sent your heart racing. Your father’s oldest friend entered the room, the dim light shining off his slick black and silver hair. You breathed a sigh of relief.

_You were still safe._

You’d known Leonard von Claparede since you were a child. He was a distinguished-looking gentleman of average build with a neat mustache, warm brown eyes, and deep lines in his face.

He’d visited your father often, even when your mother was still alive. She’d died in childbirth when you were little, giving birth to a stillborn baby and leaving you and your father on your own. Uncle Leo started visiting more often after that and had really been there for the two of you. A more doting uncle there'd never been. He used to sneak you candy and money you’d use to buy little trinkets like music boxes with twirling ballerinas and figurines.

All you knew of your father’s work growing up was that he was worked as a military analyst for the U.S. government and SHIELD. He’d worked long hours and had many commitments that kept him away from some of your important moments growing up. But he made it to most of your dance recitals, never forgot your birthday, and you never wanted for anything.

You missed your father more than you could say.

Uncle Leo grinned at you where you sat with your back against the rough, chipped headboard of the bed. Over his arm was a black garment. He held it up to show you a cape with a deep hood. It looked way too big but if it would hide you when you were able to leave...

Pulling a chair up next to the bed, he sat with his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands together and regarded you closely.

“How are you doing, _schatzi?”_

The German native had been calling you “little treasure” for as long as you could remember. It always made you smile as it did now.

“That’s better,” he said. “I’ve got good news.”

At this point, you were afraid to hope for anything, but you gave him your complete attention.

“Arrangements have been made for us to leave Berlin,” he explained. “Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll be on a flight heading for Argentina and from there, we should be able to disappear.”

Reaching into an inner pocket within his coat, he pulled out an envelope and quickly revealed its contents to you. He’d gotten a passport made for you along with other fake forms of identification and other needed documents. You leaned forward to take a look at the name on them.

_Mila von Claparede_.

“That will be your name now, _schatzi_ ,” Uncle Leo said slowly. “You understand?”

You did. He meant to pass you off as his daughter.

“There’s a safe house in Buenos Aires where we’ll stay until I can buy a house for us in a less obvious area of the country,” he went on. “We’ll be happy there. You’ll see. I’ll make sure they don’t find you. I will keep you safe.”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. You were so grateful for him.

You’d found yourself in the most impossible situation ever only weeks ago.

The Avengers had manipulated time to prevent an alien warlord from eliminating half of life on earth. That’s what you’d read. Apparently, they’d been successful.

But the manipulation of time had caused some rather strange things to happen. A small number of people, because of the changes they made in time, vanished – just ceased to exist. You’d read all about such cases at the library when you felt comfortable enough to sneak out of your hiding spaces and access the internet.

And then there was you.

You found yourself back in Berlin, disoriented and alone when they’d manipulated time. You'd wandered scared and confused, on the verge of hysteria the first couple of days.

You’d _died_ back in 2014. You and your father had been murdered on a train to Paris.

Only days before that fateful train ride, your father had shown up in your London flat and he’d clearly been shaken. You thought you’d lost your mind when your very mild-mannered father explained to you that for the entirety of your life, he’d actually been working for a terrorist organization called HYDRA. He’d explained that he’d been compromised by SHIELD and that your lives were in danger.

You needed to escape HYDRA. He needed you to trust him, to go with him to Berlin. Then the two of you would go to Paris where he was surrendering himself to SHIELD and the American authorities in exchange for your freedom, _your_ life. You’d been broken-hearted for him, terrified that they’d kill him. Your father told you that you couldn't worry about him. _As if that were possible._ You’d gone with him and done what he said.

Your father had never been so fearful that you’d ever seen. When you made it to Berlin, he’d had a meeting of some kind. When he’d returned to you at the hotel, he’d seemed much more relaxed. Your father assured you that everything would be just fine. You felt like you could breathe again.

You’d both boarded the train heading for Paris, had a lovely dinner. You’d gone to sleep and that was the last time you ever saw your father…

“Thank you, Uncle Leo,” you told him. You meant it.

For weeks after you’d returned to the land of the living, you had lived in the streets of Berlin, terrified and alone. There were a couple of shelters in the city that had helped you. You got food there and sometimes a safe place to sleep.

You had no idea what to do. As far as the world was concerned, you were dead. You had no home, no family, no money.

Worse, you’d read the article in local news reports of the murder on the train. A man who’d been apprehended as a thief in the past had been convicted for the murders. He went to prison, case closed.

You knew better. The man in the paper with his tired round face and bald head? You’d never seen him before. He wasn’t the one who’d killed you.

You’d never forget the face of the man who _had_ killed you.

“ _Schatzi?_ Are you okay?” Uncle Leo’s voice broke into your thoughts gently.

You nodded. You didn’t sleep a lot. It felt as if you hadn't slept in years.

“I’m just tired.”

The man who’d choked the life out of you on the train? He’d had the face of a fallen angel. You’d never forget it.

You hadn’t been able to tell what color his eyes were in the darkness, but you remembered the shape of his eyes. You recalled the strong angle of his jaw, the indent in his chin. He had pouting lips, high cheekbones. You would have thought him handsome if he hadn’t been there to kill you.

And the hand he’d wrapped around your throat? You’d _thought_ it had been metal. Like a robotic arm.

The worst part was the expression on his face as he squeezed the life out of you. His expression, at first, had been blank and void of emotion. But as darkness crept into the edges of your dying vision, you thought you’d read some emotion in those eyes.

_Regret? Confusion?_

Your father had betrayed HYDRA and they’d sent that man to kill you.

And the minute HYDRA figured out the universe or whatever disruption in time sent you back, they’d want you dead again.

They could send _him_ back.

You shuddered.

Uncle Leo moved to sit next to you on the bed, startling you at first. Pulling yourself from your dark thoughts, you managed to smile at him.

By chance, you’d seen Uncle Leo in Berlin one day. You’d taken a chance and ran after him, pulling him into a coat closet in the restaurant where he’d arrived for dinner. Frantically, you'd tried to explain what you knew of your situation. Uncle Leo has been terrified. At first, you thought he’d pass out from fright just seeing your face.

But he’d arranged to meet you later. It hadn’t taken long to convince him that you were who you said. There were things he knew about you from his visits to the home you’d shared with your father that no one else could have known.

Uncle Leo was now all you had. He was trying to get you out of Europe, to protect you from HYDRA.

His hand moved to your face, brushing away a tear with his thumb.

“None of that, _schatzi_ ,” he said gently. “It’s almost over… We’ll be safe in Argentina. You will see.”

You nodded. You trusted him. You _had_ to.

“So I’m your daughter now,” you said quietly. “Is there anything I should know? History things?”

Confusion filled Uncle Leo’s expression. “What?... Daughter? No. No, _schatzi._ You will be my wife.”

Something about those words filled you with dread.

“Your… wife?”

His hand landed on your jeans-covered shin, slid up to your knee. He smiled.

“You’re a young woman now,” he said, his gaze moving over you in a way that made you want to dive beneath the covers on your bed. “It will be simpler for you to be my wife.”

You swallowed hard. “But Uncle Leo, I…”

“Just Leo, _schatzi,_ from now on.”

You were dangerously close to tears. You nodded awkwardly. “Leo… okay. I’ll pose… as your wife.”

His laughter was a hollow sound in your ears. “I know it will take some adjustment,” he said slowly, “but it’s the _only_ way. As long as you live, you will need to be… sheltered, protected. We are fortunate HYDRA hasn’t discovered you yet, _schatzi_. But I am still one of them. If you ever come to be in danger, I will know… I am the only one who can protect you.”

That hand lifted from your knee, taking your chin in his fingers and tipping your chin up so you had to look at him.

“You will love me one day, yes?” he asked with a creepy smile you’d never seen before.

This was your Uncle Leo. He was good. You trusted him. And now…

Swallowing down the bile threatening to rise in your throat, you weakly nodded.

What choice did you have? If you angered him or made him unhappy, he could just as easily turn you over to HYDRA.

_Maybe it would be better to let them kill me for good…_

“Rest, _schatzi_ ,” Leo said, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek that you just wanted to cringe away from. “Tomorrow we will start a new life together. We’re traveling with a man named Neumann. While he is an… associate of mine, you will not speak to him unless absolutely necessary, yes?”

You nodded, not knowing what else to do.

Rising from the bed, Leo smiled at you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you muttered, trying to maintain your composure long enough for him to get out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind him, your tears came on.

Hope was like the soap bubbles you’d chased as a child in your mother’s garden back home. Bright, shiny… and ready to burst the moment you started to believe you could keep one.

What cruel fate had brought you back here to this life that promised nothing but misery and death? You’d already died once, and it had been awful. Why did you have to go through it again?

You had no idea what Leo had been thinking. He’d given you no reason whatsoever to think he’d ever been attracted to you like _that_. Why now?

_Because he can and you can’t say no._

Tomorrow you’d leave Berlin for South America for life as the hidden wife of a HYDRA operative.

_How do I get through this?_

Dropping onto your side, you curled up into a ball and cried until sleep finally took you.

***

“They're on a flight to Buenos Aires at 4:15,” Friday explained into the com as Bucky waited at Steve’s side. “A party of three.”

“Three?” Steve asked the AI.

Bucky shook his head. _That_ changed things up.

“Who’s the third party?” Clint’s voice came on from his position.

“Mila von Claparede,” the AI explained. “Wife of Leonard von Claparede.”

That got Bucky’s attention. He’d already reviewed everything he could find on the two operatives, looking for any connection to the girl from the train. Leonard von Claparede had never married, never had children.

And _today_ he had a wife?

“That’s new,” Clint quipped.

“Scanning,” Friday said. “No other information is available about her.”

Bucky wondered…

The girl from the train had been in close proximity to the two HYDRA operatives when the security photo had been taken. Did she know her father had been part of HYDRA and that they’d killed her?

“Guess we’re taking in three,” Sam muttered from his position.

Steve nodded.

Bucky considered his options. If by some chance this mystery wife was _her_ , the Avengers would bring her in. That would put her out of _his_ reach. He just had a feeling…

He needed to find out who the wife was and fast.

“M’gonna head down to security,” he told Steve. “See if I can tell who this third party is.”

It was always best to stick as closely to the truth as possible.

“I’m closer,” Clint said into the com. “I’ll go.”

“Stay put, Clint.” Steve’s gaze met Bucky’s as he went on to say, “Bucky knows HYDRA. I’d like his take on it.”

Bucky had never been so grateful for Steve’s attempts to blow smoke up his ass and try to make him feel like an integral part of the group.

“Copy,” Clint replied.

“Go,” Steve told him.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. Quickly he made his way to the lower level, spotting a good position for himself at the front entrance so he’d be ready the moment they arrived.

If the woman he was looking for was the third party, well, he had a rough plan.

Neumann arrived alone just a few minutes after that. "Neumann has arrived."

“von Claparede?” Steve inquired.

“No sign yet,” Bucky told him.

“We’re going to need to stay low until the other two get here,” Steve advised the team. “Keep eyes on Neumann.”

And then a few minutes later, Bucky saw the man, Leonard von Claparede, and his entire body hummed in excitement, dread, and something like hope. The woman next to him wore a black cloak, hiding her face from the world.

Why was _that_ necessary?

Bucky had dressed in street clothes to blend in and because Steve wanted to finally get these guys. He fell into place behind them as they made their way to the security checkpoint. All he had to do was wait.

The line moved pretty quickly. Bucky watched from his place leaning against a huge pillar with the baseball cap he wore pulled low over his eyes.

When the von Claparedes finally made it to the front of the line, they took the man through first, assessing him for any potential threat he could pose. While he placed his carry-on bag on the conveyor belt scanner, the authorities turned to her. One of them muttered something to her he didn’t catch.

He watched her hands shake as they clutched at the edge of her hood and pulled it back off her head.

All Bucky could do was stare while his heart began to race.

It was her.

_Oh God, it’s her._

Bucky didn’t know if she’d returned to life as Rumlow had or what happened -- and he could wait to find out later.

He took in the delicate lines of her face, already etched in his memory. He took in her hair, her form. He'd thought in the dark space of the train that she'd been beautiful

His memory wasn't worth a damn. The beauty he watched go through security like a frightened child had his heart quickening. The beast deep within him snarled covetously.

She was right to be afraid. She was in the worst sort of danger.

The same look of fear he remembered from the train was on her beautiful face now as she passed through security. His heart clenched at the hopelessness in her eyes, the way her hands shook. As soon as she was allowed, she pulled the hood back over her head.

Just looking at her made him feel like a monster.

Why was she here with two known HYDRA agents when HYDRA had killed her? He didn’t know the connection. But no matter how he looked at it, any connection to HYDRA placed her in extreme danger.

She needed to be completely removed from HYDRA, kept where they’d never find her.

Bucky was going to make that happen. It wasn’t his call to take her life back in 2014, but he was going to make it right now.

The team was moving into position, ready to strike. Bucky needed to separate her from the situation and move fast. A plan formed in his head as Steve spoke into the com.

“Team, let’s get ready,” Steve told them. “Buck, status.”

Slowing down, Bucky whispered into his com. “Right behind the von Claparedes.”

“Stay there.”

_Oh, he was._

“Okay, I see Neumann,” Sam said.

In just a few steps, von Claparede and the girl would be in full view of the team.

Bucky’s heart raced in his chest. He pulled the hypodermic needle from his pocket and sped up until he was right behind her. Reaching around to cover her mouth with a hand, Bucky pulled her to a stop, pulling her back against him hard, as the man kept walking.

“There’s the dude,” Sam said. “The woman?”

Bucky stuck the needle into her neck, its contents caused her frozen, trembling form to slump against his metal arm. With the efficiency he’d learned in his days as the Winter Soldier, Bucky threw her unconscious form over his shoulder and ran for the staff room he’d already scoped out.

Anyone who might have seen his actions was about to be really busy fleeing once the team got to work.

“Shit!” Bucky said into the com as he ran. “She’s on the run… I’ll get her.”

“Copy, Bucky,” Steve told them. “Stay on her… Okay, team, let’s take these two.”

Once the Avengers went into action, every security agent in the place headed that way. The team went after the two HYDRA operatives, giving Bucky the perfect diversion.

Disconnecting from the com, Bucky was on his way. He’d studied the layout of the airport fully before they’d ever arrived. He had his girl out of the airport and into the car he rented in no time, calmly passing the police who were racing to the airport.

Bucky was on the road with her situated in the passenger seat resting comfortably. Blowing out a sigh of relief, he began thinking ahead. With any luck, he’d have them back in the states – back at his house – within the next 24 hours. He could keep her safe there and they'd get to know one another.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one, darker than AHIAR. It's a tale of unhealthy obsession and is intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.

Something wasn’t right with Bucky. Steve had a bad feeling about Berlin.

And it was probably _his_ fault. He’s the one who’d wanted to get in and out fast. He didn’t want to leave his girl on her own for long. Maybe Steve was paranoid, but she hadn’t been living with him long. The last thing he wanted was to give her any reason to change her mind or talk herself out of it.

At the airport, Bucky had told him that the woman with the two HYDRA agents they’d been hunting for years had run from him. He’d been in pursuit with Steve's go-ahead. Then he went radio silent.

It took a couple of hours to work through things with Interpol anyway. Just as Steve was thinking he would need to go hunt his best friend down, he got a text from him.

_JBB: Head back without me and get home to your girl. My errand won’t take long._

The text meant Bucky was on the trail and pretty certain he could bring the woman in.

Steve had been satisfied with that. Tony wouldn’t be happy but he wasn’t on the mission so he wouldn’t find out about it until they returned to the compound.

The team returned on the jet and made it through debriefing. Tony _hadn’t_ been happy at all about the situation. And there’d been no word from Bucky since.

_Something was wrong._

“Steve!”

She made a beeline for him as he walked further into their new home. It was late. She hit him as hard as she could which wasn’t enough to move him at all, but he loved the gesture. Wrapping her up in his arms, he pulled her close and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“That _was_ a fast mission.” Gazing up at him, she studied him for a beat. “What’s wrong? Everyone is okay, right?”

“Everyone is okay,” he told her, not willing to release her. “Buck stayed behind to chase after one of the targets that cut and run. I haven’t heard from him in a few hours…”

“Hey,” she kept him from retreating into his mind again. “I’m sure he’s just fine, Steve.”

Blowing out an exhale, Steve wasn’t so sure.

“It’s making Tony nervous that he’s out there on his own,” Steve explained, realizing she didn’t know the connection between the two men. “It’s a long story… I’m just afraid he’ll… I don’t know.”

She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Maybe being on his own for a little while will be a _good_ thing, Steve. He’s not going to be happy being kept under glass because of who he once was. Maybe all of you could give him a little trust… No one would be happy kept under a tight watch all the time.”

Steve cocked a brow at her, catching the duality of her meaning. Was she was baiting him?

His heart clenched in his chest when she giggled at his poor attempt at a threatening look. The flush of color on her face had him hard in seconds.

“You _know_ what I meant,” she smiled up at him, already pulling back with a mischievous look. “I didn’t mean _me_ at all.”

With a careful grip on her arm, he smirked at her and began pulling her towards him. “I don’t think I _do_ know what you mean, Sweetheart.”

She squealed when he threw her over his shoulder and marched in the direction of the bedroom. She was laughing and playfully pounding on his back the whole way.

Dropping her onto the huge bed, Steve didn’t miss a beat, climbing over her.

“Want to tell me what you meant then?” Steve challenged her.

Her hands rose, hurriedly plucking at the buttons on her blouse. His gaze darted after the movement, watching as each bit of flesh was revealed to him.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she told him, unable to keep a straight face. She was flushed and smiling beneath him, her hand wrapping around the back of his neck to pull him down to her. “I’ll do _anything_ to make it up to you, soldier.”

Steve let her pull him in for a greedy kiss. They were both struggling to breathe when she let him up.

“Anything, huh?” 

Somewhere in the flurry of removing her clothes and letting her struggle with his, he hoped to hear from his oldest friend soon. Maybe she was right, and Bucky would be just fine.

Steve let her roll him onto his back, her slim fingers undoing his jeans with amazing speed. Once she got her mouth on him, everything else left his mind…

***

“So what do you think?” Tony was proud of himself, showing her the state-of-the-art monitoring system he’d set up in the baby’s room. “Anything out of the ordinary happens and you’ll know right away.”

Natasha smiled. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

They had been working on the installation for a couple of hours now. Bette had been “helping” them. Nat had to laugh when the young mother situated herself in the rocking chair in the corner and shortly after that fell asleep.

Bette inspired her every day. The young woman hadn’t been in the best of circumstances when Steve’s girl had introduced her to Nat. A poor college student who’d gotten pregnant and the father had bailed on her.

Nat had offered to pay for the birth, anything Bette and the baby needed. She’d moved Bette into her house for the time being and was paying for her tuition for the rest of the academic year. It was to protect the baby, she’d originally told herself. If the mother was safe and happy, it would naturally minimize the number of things that could go wrong with the rest of the pregnancy and birth.

Many other people would have taken advantage of such freely given generosity.

Not Bette.

Bette honestly appreciated everything Nat had done for her, understood that the biggest thing the older woman offered her was a chance to recalibrate her life. The young woman had worked hard to do everything she was medically advised to do for the pregnancy. She got lots of sleep, stuck to eating healthy foods. She took the vitamins, went to all the appointments.

She’d even handled the loss of the baby’s deadbeat father pretty well though Nat knew watching Rumlow shoot him in the head had to have been traumatic. Nat hated to say it, but she was glad the father was out of the way. Not that she thought anyone, including Bette, would ever challenge her for the rights to the child once she was born. But still...

It had been a time of unfamiliar peace in Nat’s life and it filled her with hope. Finally, she’d have a child of her own that no one could take from her. She’d have that one tiny spark of hope, that precious gift that the Red Room had tried to ensure she’d never have.

Watching as Tony started to clean up, she grinned.

“So are you thinking all of this through for when you and Pepper start a family?” Nat couldn’t resist asking.

Tony smirked at her as he put his tools away. “Maybe… Pepper doesn’t want kids right away.”

Something about the way he said that…

“What about _you_?” Nat wanted to know. “Do you want kids?”

Tony shrugged. “One wouldn’t be so bad… And for my kid? I’m going to need a way more advanced system than _this_. My kid will be a genius.”

Nat playfully rolled her eyes at him.

“And the challenge will be staying ahead of her.”

“Her?” Nat cocked a brow at him.

“Yep.” Tony finished putting his tools away and rose from the floor. “It’s going to be a girl. I like the name Morgan.”

Nat shook her head. Tony never changed. Honestly, she didn’t think she’d want him to.

“So, Barnes,” Tony abruptly changed the subject. “Think it was wise of Cap to leave him in Berlin to chase someone who wasn’t even on our radar?”

“Tell me what you really think, Tony,” Nat teased him.

“I’m serious.” Tony was. “Steve just let him go. He’s out there doing God knows what and we’re just… allowing it?”

“I’m sure Steve’s heard from him,” Nat reasoned.

Tony shot her a pained look.

“Hey, I know…” _God, how can I even address this? Bucky killed his parents when he’d been under HYDRA’s control._ “I understand that you’re concerned. You have a right to be… But Barnes is in a good place. I don’t think he’s going to hurt anyone.”

Tony didn’t believe that.

“We’re going awfully fast, aren’t we?” Tony’s tone held more than a note of bitterness. “First, Cap lets him buy him out on the house so he can move in with cutie pie. I didn’t think it was a good idea for the Manchurian Candidate to live by himself and I told Steve that.”

Nat was sure he had.

“Now he’s going to just let him run around unchecked?” Tony scoffed. “I can’t be the only one who is concerned about this.”

Nat blew out an exhale. “Tony, I trust Steve’s judgment on this,” Nat began, “I really think—”

The loud gasping sound Bette made stopped Nat cold. Bette’s arms were around her swollen belly and her eyes were wide in alarm. Nat dashed over to her chair.

“Are you okay? Is it Braxton Hicks?” Nat wanted to know.

Breathing through it, Bette nodded. “I think so… Damn, that woke me up.”

“It hurt?” Nat asked in a panic.

“A little,” Bette admitted. “I think it’s okay though.”

“Just to be safe,” Nat hauled Bette up out of the rocker. “We’re going to head to compound and get you evaluated."

“Again?” Bette’s tone was patient. “I don’t really think we need to—”

“Where are your shoes?” Nat was in full militant mode.

Tony chuckled behind Nat shooting Bette a sympathetic look. “Sorry,” he mouthed. “Nat, we’ll talk about this later. Give Bruce a kiss for me.”

He could have told Nat her hair was on fire and she would have agreed. It wasn’t that Tony didn’t matter. But the baby. _Her_ baby girl. Nat had to know everything was okay.

“Okay, Tony.”

“And if you get any word about Barnes…” Tony prompted.

Nat stopped then. “You will be the first one to know, Tony. Promise.”

He seemed satisfied with that, watching Nat herd Bette out of the baby’s room and out to the car.

“I’ll let myself out,” Tony said to no one, smiling.

***

There weren’t a lot of things from Bucky’s time as the Winter Soldier that served him in his life now. The ability to smuggle himself and another person out of one country and into another without detection? 

Now _that_ served him.

During his time on the run after the Triskelion fell, Bucky had been able to squirrel away quite a bit of cash, a nice stash of weapons. He had some connections too. That and a nice chunk of change got them a ride on a private jet with no questions asked about the names or credentials he presented for them.

_Just in case he ever had to run again._

That was what made the entire idea of taking the beautiful girl he carried to the rental car with him insane. If he ever found himself in a position where he _had_ to disappear again, and for him, that possibility would always be there, he’d also be responsible for her.

Bucky's heart clenched just looking at her. It was a risk he just had to take.

Carefully, he placed her in the front passenger seat, buckling her in and using a jacket of his as a cushion between her head and the window. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he checked the time on his phone.

After the second dose of tranquilizer he’d given her on the flight, she’d be out long enough for him to get them home with time to spare. _Perfect._

At the moment, he needed to get in touch with Steve. Bucky was just surprised he didn’t have 30 texts, a dozen missed calls, and a team out looking for him. But now, he could contact Steve without compromising himself. He’d tucked away the fake credentials he’d had made for the two of them and tried Steve on the cell phone as he started the car.

Steve answered almost immediately. “Buck? You okay?”

“Tired,” Bucky told him, dropping his voice to a lower register and slowing down his cadence. “But I’ll live.”

“How did it go?” his friend asked.

“Not good.” Bucky released a dramatic sigh. “I’ll tell you about it when I get home.”

“Where are you?”

“About 20 miles out from the house,” Bucky stuck to the truth.

He could almost hear Steve thinking in the long pause.

“I didn’t know you’d already flown back.”

Meaning Steve was really curious as to why a Quinjet hadn’t been used. He also knew they couldn't safely communicate at the moment.

“Yeah, things didn’t go so well,” Bucky explained. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Come see me.”

Another long pause but finally Steve said, “Yeah, okay, Buck. Just get home safely.”

“You know I will.”

Bucky ended the call, knowing Steve was sitting there fretting about it. Bucky knew there’d be questions. But he was ready.

The woman was a ghost, he’d explain. No record of her all. And honestly, that was true. If his girl had been some type of HYDRA operative and she’d really ran from him, he wouldn’t have been able to track her through any channels. He’d already looked.

The ride went by fast. Pulling the car into the garage and killing the engine, Bucky blew out a sigh of relief.

So far, so good.

Situating her in his arms, Bucky gently lifted her out of the car and carried her into the house that was just his now.

Well, he corrected himself, it would now be his home with _her_.

Heading down to the basement where he’d lived in the house when Steve had first brought him back, Bucky carried her to the bed and carefully lowered her onto it. Pulling her shoes off, he managed to tuck her under the covers like she was a child. Checking her pulse, he found it steady and strong.

So far, so good.

Walking out into the living room, he glanced around. It was an apartment of sorts Steve had built for him in the basement. It had been soundproofed because his nightmares were so bad sometimes that he screamed, long and loud, remembering the faces of the people he’d killed, hearing their cries of anguish. Bucky hadn’t wanted the neighbors to get curious, so Steve had gotten Stark’s people in there and soundproofed the entire lower level that had a bathroom with a huge whirlpool tub, a bedroom, and a large living room.

Steve had Stark’s people put one hell of a door up down there too, one that would have taken Bucky a while to beat his way through. It locked from the outside so Steve could secure him in there at night. Bucky sleepwalked on occasion and he didn’t want to make it out of the house, possibly hurt someone in the throes of a nightmare.

And it was wired for security which was bound to come in handy. 

Bucky blew out an exhale as he considered the girl on the bed. It was a perfect place for her to stay for now.

He could try telling himself he hadn’t decided until the last minute that he was going to take her for himself. But that would be lying. Bucky had been intrigued from the moment he’d seen her face in the security photo.

He also tried telling himself that he was trying to right a wrong. But that was a lie too. Wouldn’t Steve have a good laugh if he knew Bucky had even thought that? Bucky wasn’t the noble one. He could _try_ and fool himself. Bucky could tell himself that he’d killed her before, taken her life, and now he just wanted to help her to regain a life now. A _good_ life.

And that was true. But it was conditional. He wanted her to have a good life.

_With him._

And what was Steve – or Natasha for that matter – going to say to him? They’d done the same damn thing. Yeah, Steve justified taking his girl because she lived in a bad neighborhood and her family was gone and she was barely making it. Still, she had a life, hadn't she?

The girl sound asleep on the bed? She had no one but him and nothing to her name. There was also the very real chance of being murdered again if HYDRA found out she was back. Bucky could not only take care of her, provide for her, but he could also keep her safe from the fuckers. He was perhaps the best-equipped person on the planet to do that.

It wasn’t going to be easy though.

According to Steve, Brock Rumlow had remembered exactly how he died in Nigeria when reversing the Snap returned him. He'd told Steve this when he attacked him one night at Nat’s house – during the timeline that got _erased_ when the Snap reversed.

So Bucky had no reason to think she wouldn’t remember him killing _her_ on the train that night. Bucky shook his head. He really had his work cut out for him.

How was he going to make her feel anything for him but fear and hate when she would only see him as her murderer?

It would take time…

_Maybe she’ll always hate me._

Trying to push that thought away, Bucky toed off his shoes and peeled off his jacket. By his estimation, she likely wouldn’t wake up until morning. And considering the doses he’d been forced to use, she was going to feel like shit for a couple of days until the drugs passed out of her system.

Because he didn’t know when or if he’d get the chance again, Bucky peeled back the covers and slid into the bed next to her. He just wanted to know what it felt like to hold her. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to hold anyone, honestly.

Tucking his metal arm under her pillow, he gathered her up and pulled her closer. In her sleep she curled up on her side facing him, nuzzling her face against his chest. Draping his other arm around her, Bucky slowly felt himself relax.

She was sleepy and warm, and he didn’t smell the lavender on her right now. He could just smell _her_.

How would it feel to see her smile just for him? What did her laughter sound like? How would it feel to have her look at him with the same love and adoration Steve’s girl looked at him with? Oh, Bucky knew that was ambitious. But Steve's girl hadn’t exactly been willing at first either.

How would it feel to have her beneath him? To be inside of her?

Bucky really needed to think about how he was going to do this, how he would condition her to live with him. And in time, he’d also need a story to introduce her to the Avengers. She’d always be limited as to what she could do and where she could go because of the threat of HYDRA. She’d always need to be with _him_.

But he decided he’d work that out tomorrow. _Later._

For now, Bucky held her in the darkness, listening to the dedicated beating of her little heart, the quiet whisper of her breath. Pressing a kiss into her hair, Bucky relaxed and just allowed himself to _be_.

Now that she was in his home, in his arms, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted _anything_ as much as he did her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one, darker than AHIAR. It's a tale of unhealthy obsession and is intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.

You woke up feeling tired and sick. You didn’t want to open your eyes. Didn’t want to face another day.

But then you shot up in bed, you gaze taking in the unfamiliar room.

Your heart started slamming in your chest. You couldn’t breathe. Your world was blacking out around the edges of your vision from how fast you’d sat up. Or because you were panicking. Or both.

The room was in shades of blue from the bedding to the lampshade to the paint on the walls. The bed you were in was huge. The bed frame and the rest of the furniture were antique, dark wood. There were no windows, no mirrors. Just a dresser, a chest of drawers, and a bedside table.

Scrambling out of the bed, you checked the three doors in the room. A closet. A door to a living room. And a bathroom.

You barely made it to the bathroom on time. Pulling up the lid of the toilet just in time to expel whatever was coming up from your stomach. It wasn’t much. Mostly bile. You were sweating, shaking. Sinking down onto the floor by the toilet, you raked a hand through your hair.

Where were you? What was the last thing you remembered?

_Anything._

You’d been in the hotel room in Berlin where Leo kept you for the last several days. He came to pick you up late in the morning to head for the airport. You were supposed to fly to Buenos Aires.

Was that where you were? Had you made it to Argentina?

You remembered wearing the cape with the hood through the airport. You went through security and remembered being so relieved to make it through with the fake credentials. You weren’t happy to be posing as Leo’s wife and were worried about the implications of that moving forward. But you’d passed through from the security checkpoint.

And then?

Someone grabbed you.

Someone…

_Oh, God. What happened?_

On shaking legs, you rose from the bathroom floor. Weakly, you walked back into the bedroom, looking for any sign – anything – that would tell you where you were. In the bedroom, your shoes were on the floor next to the bed. You were wearing the same clothes you’d worn to the airport. You didn’t know where the hooded cape went.

You drifted into the living room, hoping to find it in there. The living room was simple enough. It was green in there with nature paintings hanging on the walls. No windows. No pictures.

This didn’t seem like a hotel.

There was a front door. Even though you still felt nauseous, you headed for the door to see what was beyond.

_The door was locked._

Why was the door locked?

With the heel of your hand, you gently beat on the door.

“Hello?” you called, trying to see if anyone could hear you. “Hello?”

Considering you didn’t exactly know where you were or who you were with, you decided maybe calling out wasn’t the best idea.

What if HYDRA had gotten you?

_HYDRA?_

Now on top of feeling sick, you were shaking, gripped by incredible fear. If HYDRA had gotten you, wouldn’t you be dead? Surely, they would have just killed you outright.

The last thing you remembered was the airport. You’d never gotten on the plane with Leo and the other man, had you? You’d been intercepted.

_Maybe they do have me…_

You had no phone, no way to know how much time had passed since the airport. It could have been days. You were weak, your stomach empty…

Sinking onto the floor, you wrapped your arms around your knees and pulled them into your chest. Pulled yourself into a ball and began to rock.

_Where were you?_

_What had happened?_

_Were you just waiting for someone to come to kill you?_

Tears slid down your cheeks are you waited.

***

Bucky rose from his seat at the computer in his bedroom, watching as his girl rocked herself in the floor of her rooms. Raking his hands through his hair, he began to pace. He needed a plan. He needed to get started here.

His girl was scared. She didn’t know where she was. The drugs made her sick. He needed a way to take care of her, a way to communicate with her.

_Yeah, the minute she sees my face it’s going to be so much worse._

But she was going to see his face. She was going to be with him for a long time, right?

Bucky knew how this worked, knew how people were conditioned.

The best thing to do was to just get started.

Bucky dressed in his street clothes, leaving his hair loose as he would have worn it that night. He’d pulled on a pair of black gloves to cover his hands.

He stayed and watched the camera feed for just another minute. His heart clenched in his chest as he watched her cry, curling in on herself.

He’d woken up earlier curled on his side on the bed downstairs. She been sound asleep, spooned up behind him. Selfishly, he’d laid there for nearly two hours when she didn’t move away, willing to risk her waking up to find him there. One slender arm had wrapped around him, tucked beneath his metal arm. Her palm had covered his heart, and his own hand had covered it, kept it there.

Bucky couldn’t remember such softness, something so precious.

He wanted more of that. In sleep, it was as if she trusted him.

Well, if he wanted more of that, he needed to get started.

Steeling himself, he headed for the stairs to her rooms. Stopping just outside, he took a deep breath.

No emotion. He couldn’t give in and drop to his knees, take her in his arms and beg her forgiveness. He couldn’t show her anything but control.

Bucky could do this. And he knew it was for the best.

All he could hope was that desperation made her more receptive and that the process would go quickly.

***

You froze when you heard footsteps outside that front door. Someone was coming and they weren’t trying to sneak up on you. You tried to slow your breathing. Your heart was flying in fear, the pounding a cadence in your ears. What if it was just Leo? Maybe everything was okay. Maybe…

The footsteps stopped right outside of the door and you swallowed hard. Maybe rolling around like a ball on the floor wasn’t the best idea because you didn’t know what was happening or who was coming. Climbing clumsily to your feet, you dropped your hands to your sides and took several steps back into the living room, staring at the door hard.

Frantically, your gaze darted around the room, looking for anything you might use as a weapon, but the thought was lost when the lock of the door clicked. By the time your gaze returned to the door, you saw the doorknob turn.

The man who walked through the door was tall with wide shoulders, dressed in a dark shirt and jeans. Every bit of him was cover aside from his face neck. His dark hair just reached those broad shoulders in thick waves and that was the first thing that sent you into panic mode. He wasn’t thin either. His upper body looked powerful, his arms and legs heavily muscled.

Closing the door behind him, he turned around to secure the lock while your heart continued to beat wildly like a bird trying to escape its cage.

When he turned back around to face you, you took in those emotionless eyes, the angles of his face, his mouth, the indent in his chin…

_Oh, my God. It’s him. IT’S HIM!_

_The man who’d killed you on the train._

You screamed, watching as your worst nightmare regarded you coldly from where he stood just inside the door. You started backing up, stumbling and falling to the floor so hard it was jarring. Ignoring the pain in your backside and hands, you crab-walked backward, away from him. You hit your head on the coffee table when you backed into it, keeping your wide-eyed stare on him as he began to move in your direction.

He wore gloves. One of his hands was metal… Was that why he was wearing the gloves?

You kept backing around the table and kept backing up until you hit the far war of the living room. You knew you had nowhere else to go. He’d locked himself in with you and there wasn’t another way out that you knew of.

Tears spilled freely down your face now and when he stopped right in front of you. You sank to the floor, curled in on yourself. Wrapping your arms around your head, you readied yourself for, however, he planned to kill you this time.

Somehow you heard a deep sigh over the sound of your own hyperventilation.

“Look at me,” a deep voice commanded.

Too frightened to face your personal angel of death, you just held yourself tighter, knowing he could see how hard you were shaking. You just wanted it to be over…

Slight pain bloomed in your scalp when he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled until you lifted your tear-streaked face from your arms. Kneeling before you, he made you meet his gaze.

“Please,” you begged him, sound like a sobbing child. “Please just kill me… Please… just kill… me…”

The grip on your hair tightened. “Be quiet.”

Aside from your sniffling and breathing, you stopped.

You held completely still, letting him look you over. His blue-gray eyes took in every detail of your face. Retaining his grip on your hair, he pulled more as he rose from the floor prompting you to rise too. But the pain was burning your scalp, your hands slip up to his, frantically trying to loosen his fingers on your hair. As your fingers scrambled to loosen his hold, his fingers tightened, and they were unnaturally hard.

_The metal arm._

It was true. All of it.

_Why? Why had the universe brought you back for this? For this man to kill you again?_

Your hands shook as they dropped to your sides.

His grip relaxed. He didn’t release you, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad now. That gaze moved over your face and hair, down your body.

His right hand rose to your face, gripping your chin in his fingers. When he turned your head abruptly to the left, you gasped. You watched him as much as you could in your peripheral vision. Color rose from the color of the navy shirt he wore.

He found them…

When you’d returned from being dead, there was only one difference you could find on yourself. Faint marks appeared as three faint lines just below your right ear. They appeared to be permanent.

His brow lowered as he studied them.

They looked like finger marks, from where he’d choked you to death.

This man had choked you until you died. And that was _after_ he killed your father.

Why wasn’t he just killing you now?

Though it had been his left hand that had he’d used to squeeze the life out of you, it was his right hand that pressed against your neck to match those marks. He frowned as he studied the marks for a long moment.

Dropping his right hand, he looked you over more. The hand clutched in your hair let go and you sighed in relief, but you didn’t dare move. You pinned your gaze to the center of his chest, standing there shivering in front of him.

“Look at me,” he said more forcefully.

Your gaze met his but apparently not fast enough. That left hand, the metal fingers you suspected was under the concealing glove, wrapped around your throat. There was just enough pressure to scare you but not to limit your breathing. Still, you were paralyzed in fear.

Moving you with that hand at your throat, your own fingers came up to ineffectually try to pry his off, he moved you to the couch and forced you down on it. Your heart was beating so hard your chest hurt, your breath was coming fast.

“Breathe,” he told you. “You’re about to hyperventilate.”

You were trying. He remained standing, looming over you, as you struggled to calm yourself. It was a little hard when you were faced with your own murderer.

Your shaking hands twisted in your lap as you focused on breathing through your nose.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he began. “I may allow you to ask a couple. Outside of that, you’ll speak only when I require an answer. Do you understand?”

Tears were welling up in your eyes again, but you managed to nod.

His gaze turned hard. “I didn’t _hear_ you.”

“Yes… I understand… sir.”

“No sir,” he grumbled. “You recognize me, yes?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“You remember that I killed you?”

“Yes.”

_By God, you did remember that._

“Do you know who sent me to kill you and your father in 2014?” he asked quietly. Now that you were hearing him speak, his voice wasn’t unpleasant.

“Yes,” you said, still trying to calm your breathing. The edges of your vision were fading. “H-HYDRA sent you.”

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “Now tell me, who were the men you were traveling with? Who were they to you?”

Something about the way he asked that question, the intensity of his gaze, made you pause. You needed to be careful in how you answered those two questions.

“One man was called… Neumann,” you said slowly. “I never met him. I was… just told he’d be traveling with us and that I was to… s-speak to him as little as possible.”

The man nodded but he was still intensely interested in the rest of your answer and you weren’t going to keep him waiting.

“The other man was Leonard von Claparede,” you explained. “He was my father’s friend for as long as I remember… He was taking me to… Argentina. To hide me.”

“The passport said you were his wife,” the man pressed.

You nodded.

“Was that _true_?” he asked angrily.

“No… not… n-not yet,” you weakly explained. “He didn’t tell me I was posing as his wife… until the day before… the airport. I was… hoping I could… pass as his d-daughter.”

That steely-blue gaze moved over you again.

“You had to have _something_ to offer him, didn’t you?”

You swallowed hard at that question. “I suppose.”

“How are you not dead?” The man leaned down, his face close to yours.

It only made your shaking worse. You almost wished you could pass out but honestly, you were afraid to at the same time. Your tears were flowing freely now, sticking words in your throat.

“I don’t… know,” you tried to explain. “I just… came back. To Berlin.”

“Did your father also come back?” he wanted to know.

“Not… not that I know of.”

“How did you find von Claparede?”

“He came to Berlin,” you explained, “many weeks after I made it back. I had barely learned… my way around the city. I was staying in… shelters, wherever I could find a place to hide. I was able to convince him it was me and… he agreed to help me… for my father.”

A sneer formed on his handsome face at that. “Not for your father. For _you_.”

That cool gaze moved over your body again and you shuddered. The realization didn’t make you feel any better but considering that Leo suggested that you’d be his wife beyond smuggling you to Argentina, it was likely true.

“I took you away from him,” he told you. “You’re mine now. Do you understand?”

_Oh God._

Leo had intended to use you for your body. Now your murderer intended to the same…?

“I understand,” you said slowly.

“You’re dead to the world,” he went on. “No one will come to look for you.”

“Leo?” you tried.

He smiled coldly at you, shook his head.

Was Leo dead? Did he kill him too?

“That’s the only pass you’re going to get for speaking to me out of turn,” he warned you.

You almost blurted out “I’m sorry” but thought better of it.

“You’re mine now,” he repeated with feeling. “And I’m no longer part of HYDRA.”

The words sent a spike of fear through you. Did he mean to kill you then? Was it an affront to his prowess as a killer that you were alive, and he didn’t want anyone to know?

Or did he plan on using you as Leo had? Only you couldn’t imagine there would be any kindness or pretense of such with him. The thought just brought on more tears.

It made you sad. In another life, you might have found him very attractive. But this man? He was a cold-blooded killer. He didn’t feel anything for you. Not pity. Not compassion.

And you were at his mercy.

He’d taken you but you didn’t even know where you were. You could literally be anywhere, in any country. Once again, this man would decide whether you would live or die.

“Still want me to kill you?” he asked as if he could read your mind.

_Maybe._

“No,” you said quietly.

“You’ll do whatever I tell you, yes?”

You swallowed hard, afraid of just what that might entail.

_What choice did you have?_

“Y-yes… I will,” you said slowly.

“Will you?” Still leaning in close to you, he lowered his face until it was buried in the loose locks of your hair, so close to the tender skin just below your left ear that you could feel his breath warm against your skin.

Despite yourself, you shuddered, and it wasn’t entirely in fear.

You jumped a little when his right hand, his real hand, dropped to your shoulder. It smoothed softly over your shoulder, across your collarbone.

It wasn’t what you expected. His touch was light, almost delicate. You told yourself that it was so light, almost tickling, and _that’s_ why you shivered again, fighting to stay perfectly quiet.

Were you losing your mind? _What the hell was wrong with you?_

He inhaled deeply then, before pulling away from you. Your gaze flew up to his and for just a split second you could swear that you saw something, some heated emotion in those steely-blue eyes.

“You’re feeling sick,” he said randomly. “It will probably last for a couple of days.”

Why were you sick? Because he’d probably drugged you?

You caught yourself about to ask if you could have water but realized that there was a sink in the bathroom. If that worked, you had that. Food? Whether he fed you or just let you starve? That would remain to be seen. You didn’t dare ask. He said not unless he required a response.

“I’ll give you a day or two to recover,” he said simply. “That’s all.”

Abruptly, he turned and headed for the door. He was able to unlock it, exit, and lock it again with amazing efficiency. You didn’t try to move. You just waited until you heard his footsteps on the stairs and then you blew out a shaky exhale.

Your stomach was a mess and you felt dizzy. He’d just told you he would give you a couple of days…

Until what? He killed you again? Raped you?

Raped you _then_ killed you?

Falling onto your side on the couch, you curled into a ball and just tried to hold yourself. Tried to find any hope, any happy thought to focus on right now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one, darker than AHIAR. It's a tale of unhealthy obsession and is intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.
> 
> Promise I'll get caught up on comments tomorrow. Love you guys! ♥♥♥

When you next woke up, your tummy and thighs ached. Your stomach was growling so fiercely that it had caused you to wake. The inside of your mouth couldn’t have been dryer. The rest of your body hurt too since you apparently didn’t move from your spot on the couch where he’d left you.

When you heard footsteps on the stairs, your heart began racing. You felt like absolute shit and he was coming back down to you. You had no idea how much time had passed.

For the briefest moment, you did consider just asking him to finish you. You _did_. But you felt so poorly that you didn’t think you could manage even that.

He was dressed as he had been before so maybe it was the same day. You made a mental note to find some way to mark the days you were here. His expression was the same as it had been earlier after he locked the door behind him.

But as he came closer, something shifted in him, beneath the surface. You didn’t know if that were a good or bad thing.

Stopping right in front of you, he dropped heavily to the couch where your feet rested. You found the energy then to pull yourself up into a sitting position, the move sending a wave of nausea through you. You tried to move away as much as you could without angering him.

Still, he leaned closer to you, smelling you.

Your face went up in flames. You’d not showered today, and you had no idea how long you’d been here. You couldn’t imagine you smelled your best.

Frowning, he rose from the couch and marched back out the way he came.

_Do I smell that bad?_

Pulling yourself up from the couch, you felt so weak, you went to the bathroom to relieve yourself. It didn’t take you long to notice that the toilet was filled with blood.

_Great. Because things couldn’t possibly get worse._

What were you supposed to do? You somewhat doubted that there was anything you could really use, and your periods had _always_ been heavy.

You used toilet paper as best you could, shaking as you washed your hands and made your way back into the living room. He’d just let himself back in as you headed for the couch.

Blackness edged around your field of vision and you stumbled, tumbling onto the carpet. The tears came then because now you really did just want him to kill you.

You jerked in fear when he kneeled next to you and carefully scooped you up off the floor, carrying you back into the bathroom and setting you on the closed seat of the toilet. With no idea of what he was about to do, you watched him shuffle around the huge tub at the bathroom’s center, turning it on. He pulled his right glove off so he could adjust the water and curls of steam rose from it.

_Was he running you a bath?_

_Probably going to drown you in the tub…_

You watched him dart to the bathroom closet, pulling out a container of Epsom salts and liberally dumped the contents into the water. He fished out two bath towels, bottles of shampoo and conditioner, before he marched out of the bathroom.

When he returned, he was carrying a large paper shopping bag. The type you got from upscale shops that had nice twine handles. Placing it on the floor by your feet, you watched as he pulled out a small red bundle. It took you a moment to realize that it was a pair of red pajamas and he sat them near the towels on the shelf of the tub. Next he pulled out a filmy pair of white panties, small white ankle socks.

You were sure your eyes bugged out of your head when he pulled out a plastic package of menstrual pads and they were maximum absorbency.

That had your heart going double time.

_How had he known that?_

Could he read your mind? You’d heard of people who could do that. You didn’t know whether or not you believed it but…

Once he’d placed the pads with everything else, he turned to face you.

“Think you can manage getting in there yourself?” he asked you.

You were blinking back tears now, but you nodded eagerly. You thought you could.

But you were so confused. _Why was he doing this?_ Did he want you to smell better when he killed you? Or whatever he planned to do with you…

The thought of a warm bath was just… God, you were afraid to read too much into it.

He marched out of the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him and you rose, began taking off your clothes. Somehow you managed to undress and make your way to the tub.

The water was on the hotter side of warm but not enough to burn you. It felt so good as you slid your body into the tub and for the first time, maybe since you’d returned to this hateful world, began to relax.

You only gave yourself a few moments to enjoy it, deciding to wash yourself, your hair, while you had the opportunity to do so. He could come back in at any time, right? You made quick work of your hair, using the ocean-scented products he’d left you. You missed your usual lavender, but beggars didn’t get to be choosers.

Once you’d rinsed and washed, you grabbed the towels and carefully climbed out of the tub. You managed to dress, take care of your period, empty the tub. The pajamas were fuzzy, soft. Everything fit just perfectly.

Only your hair was left but you found a small plastic comb in the mirrored cabinet over the sink. Your hair was long, and it took a little while, but you managed to get your hair sorted.

You’d even folded your clothes and piled them on the side of the tub.

You’d just made it to the couch when you heard him coming back down the stairs. This time, he carried a tray and the warm smell of food reached you.

Despite your situation, your stomach clenched, and your mouth watered. You didn’t understand at all why he was doing this, but you weren’t about to argue.

Carefully, he set the tray on the coffee table before you. Two plates with large portions of lasagna. Two salads. Some bread. There was a beer which he grabbed. That left a glass of water and next to it, you noticed a small bottle of aspirin.

Reaching for those first, you flinched when his hand grabbed your wrist to stop you.

You started trembling under his grip and you could almost swear for just a split second, you saw something like regret flash across his handsome face.

“Eat _slowly_ ,” he warned you. “Or you’ll be sick. I don’t know when you last ate… Understand?”

You nodded, keeping your gaze on him as he dropped your hand.

“Yes,” you remembered to say.

You watched as he pulled a remote from under the table for a huge flat-screen television on the other side of the room and turned it on, surfing through channels as he grabbed his plate, salad.

Finally, he seemed to notice you were staring at him. “What?”

“H-how long have I been here?” you asked quickly.

Dropping your gaze to your pajamas, you waited for his answer.

Blowing out an exhale, he seemed to turn his attention back to the news, his meal.

“Late last night,” was all he said.

Okay. That didn’t tell you much. You could guess that maybe that meant everything happened in that Berlin airport _yesterday_?

You were comfortable and had a nice meal in front of you. You weren’t going to do anything to jeopardize that.

You took the aspirin with several sips of water first.

The lasagna was wonderful. It was all you could do _not_ to hork it down because until that moment, you didn’t realize just how hungry you were. You couldn’t help the tears that stung the backs of your eyes as you ate. You really tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw his attention.

You didn’t think you’d had a proper meal since you’d returned. Leo had brought you small sandwiches here and there when he thought about it. But this? This was fresh and full of flavor. You were just so damned grateful in that moment. Cutting everything up into small pieces and chewing slowly, you ate and found yourself still trying not to let him see you fighting back tears.

Tears because you felt bad because you were afraid, confused. Tears of gratitude.

He watched television, hardly seeming to notice you at all.

Or so you thought.

It had been a while since you’d finished your meals. He was still watching the news network. When a story involving the Avengers began, that got your attention.

You knew more about the Avengers since you’d returned from the dead than you ever had before you died. Uncle Leo talked of little else. It had been the reason he’d tried so hard to get you out of Berlin, to take you to Argentina.

Leo said he was afraid of the Avengers getting their hands on you though that didn’t make sense. You knew nothing about HYDRA or Leo’s involvement with them. You had nothing they could want.

Leo had been even more afraid that they would get _him_. And the implications of that had kept you from sleeping a few nights. Who was Leo to HYDRA? Who had your father been? To think that either of them had cost anyone their lives…

You recognized the airport in Berlin. You’d been there. Footage showed a man named Gustav Neumann who you’d never seen before but who you suspected may have been the one you were supposed to travel with.

When the footage was shown of Leo and you going through security, your heart jumped in your throat. Particularly when you had pulled the hood off as you’d been instructed. The anchor reported that Leo and Neumann had been taken into custody. You watched as they were hauled away while Captain America, Black Widow, and the Falcon looked on.

Photos of you from the footage at the airport filled the screen. There was a number to call if you were spotted.

Fear had you trembling, curling up into a ball on the couch.

_Why did they want you?_

The man next to you used the remote to turn off the television. He rose from the couch only enough to turn his massive body to face you. The way he sat emphasized how powerful he was. His upper body looked as wide and hard as a brick wall. His legs were muscular too, his thighs thick.

That same placid expression greeted you. The same expression he’d worn since you woke up here.

The same expression he’d worn when he’d killed you.

“You’re a wanted woman,” he remarked casually.

_I don’t know why. Please, I don’t know why._

Your heart beat wildly in your chest as you waited to see what your captor was going to do.

“Right now,” he said slowly, “they are only looking for you because you were travelling with two top-level HYDRA goons. They don’t know who you _really_ are… Really _were_. If they did realize who you were, they’d be looking for you for a different set of reasons.”

_Dead girls have no tales._

“When did you find out your father was HYDRA?” he asked then, staring you down. It was like he was daring you to lie to him.

Bravely as you could, you held that gaze. “Only a couple of days before we...” A chill went through you at the thought of admitting out loud that you’d _died_. “He found me in London and that’s the first I knew of it.”

“What did you _think_ he did all your life?” You winced at the sarcasm there, tried not to take it personally.

“He said he… worked for SHIELD and the U.S. Government,” you explained.

He didn’t seem surprised at your answer, scrubbing his right hand back through the thick, brown waves of his hair.

“Did he tell you why you were running from HYDRA?”

You swallowed hard, trying hard to remember everything.

“He said he’d been compromised,” you explained. “By SHIELD. They caught him but he didn’t tell me… what they caught him doing or what he did… He was ashamed. He was really shaken up when he showed up in my flat.”

The man nodded, those steely-blue eyes never leaving you.

“He tell you anything else about SHIELD?”

“Only that they had… promised him that I’d go free if he gave them what they wanted.” You tried very hard to remember exactly how he explained that. “He told me that I would be thoroughly questioned by SHIELD and that the less… he told me, the better.”

“Smart,” he said, nodding. “You probably would have been just fine if HYDRA hadn’t gone after you. You’d have been relocated, given a new life.”

_If HYDRA hadn’t sent you to kill me._

“Your father must have really loved you,” the man said, his expression softening.

You’d loved your father. And he was dead.

You nodded. “Yes.”

The man sitting next to you on the couch killed him. For HYDRA.

But he said he wasn’t with HYDRA anymore.

“No one is going to find you,” he explained. “You’re mine now. _My_ girl.”

_My girl._

There was something dark in his tone, something in the way that intense gaze moved over you, that didn’t feel like he meant to kill you.

It felt more like he meant to _own_ you.

“You seem awfully good at following instructions,” he went on. “If you can keep doing that, you’ll have a good life here with me. You understand?”

“Yes,” you said nodding, fear gripping your gut at what those instructions might be.

“You’ll keep me happy.” Rising from the couch, you cowered in his shadow on the couch. “Make me _unhappy_ and you won’t like it.”

What would it take to make a man like _him_ happy? It was pretty obvious he’d expect sex from you.

Why wasn’t he just taking you then?

Would you even stand a chance in bed with someone like him?

Blowing out an exhale, your brain whirled. He wasn’t unattractive. He was just so cold, so brutal…

He held out that uncovered hand and you took it, your heart lurching in your chest.

_Maybe this was it._

He held onto your hand as he went through the room shutting off lamps and you followed dutifully. He led you into the bedroom and released your hand to point at the bed.

“Get in.”

Scrambling to do as he wanted, you got in bed, burrowing under the covers fast while he stood at the foot of the bed and watched.

Something about his expression. He almost looked _amused_ at that. Shaking his head, he toed off his shoes and walked around to the other side of the bed where he’d slept last night. He turned off the lamp and laid down.

Well, he was sleeping in his clothes. That was _something_.

He turned away from you onto his side. After a moment, he shifted to get under the covers.

You kept still in the dark behind him, curled on your side. Still in the grip of your cramps, you were facing the same way.

“Come here,” he muttered in the dark.

_Oh God._

You scooted a little closer.

“More.”

You moved a little closer.

His breath was a harsh exhale.

Rolling onto his back, his left hand – the hard hand – snatched yours up. When he rolled back onto his side, he pulled you with him. You found yourself spooned up behind him with your arm around his chest. You felt the strong pounding of his heart against your palm.

“Sleep.”

You really had no hope of understanding this man. He wanted you to _hold_ him?

But after a moment, it occurred to you that he was so _warm_. With your aching tummy pressed up against what was, you had to admit, a really hard, nicely-shaped backside, it felt good. It was as effective as a heating pad really.

After a moment, you relaxed a little. You didn’t know if you’d be able to sleep.

Nice ass or not, he _had_ killed you.

You didn’t even know what to call him.

“Something on your mind, doll?” he said, his voice less severe.

_Doll._

“What do I call you?” you whispered.

“James.”

_James._

Your evening ran through your head again. While you expected to be unable to sleep, you fell asleep pretty quickly after that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one, darker than AHIAR. It's a tale of unhealthy obsession and is intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.
> 
> And the smut starts this chapter...

The early morning was now Bucky’s favorite time of the day. And that was a good thing because, before her, he didn’t have a favorite time of the day. It was all endless gray days of trying to pretend to be good ole Bucky Barnes for Steve, invisible for Stark, and a somewhat normal fucking human with the rest of the team.

The outside world? Bucky wasn’t ready for that yet. Older men and women who happened to recognize him would nod to him knowingly. Younger people looked at him as a threat or at the very least, someone worthy of scorn. Any time he had to be out in the world, he could feel the scorn and judgment. None of it was easy. And all of it he deserved.

He woke at dawn each morning and there she was. And she had no idea who he was. He’d killed her before the story of the Winter Soldier was revealed to the world. Honestly, he liked it that way.

It had been a week since he’d brought her home. He’d shared a bed with her every night, wanting her to grow accustomed to it. No matter where they fell asleep, by the morning – when _he_ woke up – she was always right where she was now.

This morning his vibranium arm was tucked up under his pillow and she was snuggled against his side. Her face was buried against his ribcage, an arm and leg thrown across him. Grinning up at the ceiling, he wondered how she’d react if she _knew_ she did this every morning.

Adjusting his pillow so he could see her better, he could _pretend_. She was beautiful, his girl. In sleep, she looked hopeful, a little smile on her face. He always wondered what she was dreaming of. 

Bucky was pretty sure _he_ wasn’t in the dreams that made her smile. Maybe he never would be. Maybe these moments were all he’d ever have, watching her sleep.

He didn’t deserve her heart. He knew that.

But it didn’t keep him from wanting what he wanted. What would it be like for her to wake up and smile to find him there in her arms? What would it be like to hear her giggle when he rolled her beneath him? To make love to her while she was still sleepy and warm?

Each morning he woke up hard. _That_ aspect of being with her? He thought about it a lot. He needed to do something about _that_.

Bucky had been alarmed when he’d gotten her back to his house. It didn’t appear that she’d eaten since she’d been returned, and she was painfully thin. There was little luster to her hair. The hollows beneath her eyes only added to his guilt.

If he'd been able to fight the monsters who'd kept and controlled him, maybe she wouldn't have had to die. Maybe she'd be somewhere in America with an assumed name and a lover she chose...

In the last week, she looked a little better. She slept a lot even though he gave her permission to watch TV whenever she liked. She ate well. Now that she was here, and he didn’t want to explain takeout for two if he should happen to run into anyone he knew, he’d gotten into cooking for them.

Bucky, oddly, remembered something about himself. He remembered he enjoyed cooking. He kept lunches simple with mostly sandwiches and soups. Breakfast he made when he got back from his run with Steve and she slept until late morning anyway. Dinner? Well, that allowed him to show off just what he could do.

And it was an ego boost that she really seemed to enjoy the food he made her instead of eating dutifully because she was afraid of what he’d do otherwise. It made him happy.

But that was the only area of their relationship so far he could say that about.

At first, he hadn’t known whether to be pleased or annoyed with her level of obedience. While he appreciated that she wasn’t challenging him because that’s what he told her he wanted, he felt a level of disappointment that there was no fight in her at all.

Perversely, he almost _wanted_ her to challenge him.

But in the last couple of days…

Her monthly finally ended and he was relieved because she didn’t smell like blood anymore. It reminded him that he needed to do something for contraception. It was on his to-do list. Just to be safe.

The sorrowful shadows behind her eyes? They’d faded. Her gaze met his more often now. There was a restlessness about her that he’d picked up on pretty quickly. She watched him closely when he entered and left the room. She moved around more.

Bucky wondered if she were planning to try something.

Part of him hoped she was.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he shifted from beneath her and made his way upstairs, dressing for his run as he always did. Steve met him in his driveway, and they ran, ending up at Steve’s house for coffee as usual.

Steve’s girl was at the kitchen table when they walked in, both covered in sweat from their run. Textbooks, notebooks, papers, pens were scattered all around her. She didn’t even seem to notice they were there.

“She have an exam or something?” Bucky asked, grinning.

Steve smiled, coming up behind her to kiss the top of her head. “How’s it going, Sweetheart?”

Huffing out an exhale, she turned and grinned up at him. Those big eyes on his best friend like he was all she’d ever need.

_Bucky wanted that._

“I’m never going to learn this,” she said with concern. “I’ve watched the videos. I’ve read through this damn book a hundred times. _Why_ do I need physics?”

Steve chuckled. “We can always talk to Bruce. He’s good at explaining things like that.”

“Or Tony,” she said hopefully.

“He just tells you how to cheat,” Steve reminded her. “We’ve talked about that.”

“I’m fine with cheating,” she assured him. “I just want out of this damn class… Help me, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned, loving how Steve and his girl were with each other. Loving how warm and caring she was.

His girl was warm and caring. Would she ever reach that point with _him_ though? Was it even possible?

“You never took physics, Pal,” Bucky pointed out.

Steve shot him a look. “Doesn’t mean she should get Tony to help her cheat.”

Bucky shrugged as Steve poured them both a coffee. Handing one to Bucky, he motioned him into the living room.

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Steve told her, leaving her to her studies.

Once they took a seat, Bucky smiled his best friend.

“I’m happy for you two,” he admitted. “She’s come a long way.”

Steve nodded his agreement. “It wasn’t easy.”

Bucky didn’t imagine it was.

“I’m not proud of how it all started,” Steve told him. “But the end result? I’m a happy man.”

Bucky stopped to consider that. Steve had literally taken his girl out of the hospital, locked her in the same rooms his girl was locked in now. It had been insinuated that things had happened that weren’t exactly consensual. But Steve had actually caught a break when they managed to reverse the Snap. He had gotten another chance with her. Lucky bastard.

Granted, while she didn’t remember the timeline where Steve had kidnapped her, she had managed to get a letter to herself through Wong the wizard. In the letter, she’d explained in some detail what had happened in that lost timeline, what Steve had done.

The day before the showdown with Rumlow, Steve had brought her back to the house he shared with Bucky after she’d fainted at the hospital. Steve went out to get groceries at Bucky’s request. He’d wanted to time with her to talk about an incident with her pregnant friend. Bucky wanted Steve’s girl to like him, to trust him.

Before she’d awakened, well, Bucky had done what Steve hadn’t managed to do to this day that he was aware of. Bucky read that letter. Every word. He wasn’t proud of it, but he just hadn’t been able to get his head around Steve kidnapping anyone, much less a dame. He’d been hoping it would shed some light on what was in his friend’s head.

America’s golden boy had done a lot more than just kidnap his girl…

_But look at him now._ She was living with Steve now, taking classes online to make him happy instead of taking classes on campus. She adored him.

Steve’s sigh pulled him out of his thoughts.

“You okay, Buck? Seems like you’ve had a lot on your mind lately,” his friend asked gently.

“I have,” Bucky admitted. “I’ll get it worked out.”

Steve nodded. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Not right now.” _You’ll meet her when she’s ready._ Speaking of _his_ girl… “Any word on the HYDRA woman?”

Steve shook his head. “Nothing… If she managed to dodge you, I can’t see anyone else having better luck.”

Bucky nodded before remembering something. “Nat have a baby yet?”

Steve told him yesterday that Nat had taken Bette to the hospital, but Bucky had heard nothing else since then.

“False alarm,” Steve explained. “But apparently it will be any time now.”

Bucky couldn’t help but be excited for Nat. She’d wanted a baby since he’d gotten to know her. To be so close to something she never thought she could have…

Well, that he could understand.

After HYDRA, Bucky never thought he’d be able to get close to someone again, either platonically or romantically. Thanks to Steve’s stubbornness, the family of Avengers that had taken him in including Tony – albeit begrudgingly. Even so, Bucky realized he was lonely. Realized he _did_ want someone of his own.

He was sure back in the forties when he’d gone dancing with a different pretty girl each night that he’d intended to find one special girl and settle down with her. Before the war and HYDRA took him.

That dream wasn’t completely lost. Bucky was pretty sure he was sterile like Nat, but he didn’t need kids as Nat or Steve did. Would’ve been nice but not a deal-breaker. If his girl wanted kids? They could adopt.

Bucky tipped his head in the direction of the kitchen. “She excited?”

“About the baby?” Steve shrugged. “I think so… I’m hoping it will make her think about having a family.”

“You haven’t gotten married yet,” Bucky pointed out, messing with his friend.

“Working on it.” Steve smiled. “I do have a ring now.”

Bucky laughed. He wasn’t surprised.

They chatted a few more minutes before Bucky decided to head back.

His mind was now made up. It wasn’t a long walk from Steve’s house to his own. but Steve’s situation with his girl now and those hastily written desperate sentences of her letter ran through his mind. How someone like Steve had done what he had with her and somehow maneuvered things to where they were now? He could only assume that it was sheer force of will that brought it all about.

Steve really loved her.

Bucky didn’t know if he was capable of love anymore. He did care about his girl.

And he _did_ want her.

While Steve had the right idea, Bucky decided a different approach would best serve his situation.

Bucky made it into his house, showered and dressed. Instead of thinking about what to make her for breakfast right now, he decided to head back down to see her. To give in to a little of what he really wanted. He needed to start somewhere.

She was right where he left her, her breath soft puffs of air on his pillow as she curled up on her side like a child.

His feet were bare and he slowly climbed onto the bed behind her, easing himself onto his side until he was spooning her. With great care, he slid his flesh arm beneath her, around her form. Carefully, he wrapped his vibranium arm around her too. He’d put that glove on. He wasn’t ready to reveal _that_ yet.

In her sleep, she edged back into his warmth, cuddling. Bucky’s heart melted. She felt so good right there, in his arms, close to his heart.

Small steps.

Pushing his face into the locks of her hair, he nuzzled against her until his lips found the delicate skin of her neck. Chaining kisses down that slim column, feeling the silk of her skin beneath his lips was intoxicating. When his tongue slid out to taste her skin, she hummed in her sleep, backing further against him. It was a sound he’d like to hear again.

Bucky’s body went up in flames, his arms gently tightening around her. He pressed more kisses back up to just under her ear, teasing that spot lightly. She shifted in his arms but didn’t wake. When he pulled the tiny lobe of her ear between his lips, the low moan she released had him rock hard, pressing himself against her ass with urgency.

His flesh hand slid up under her pajama shirt, his fingers skimming across her soft, damp skin until he reached the soft swells of her breasts. Brushing kisses along the column of her throat, his hand slid up to cover her left breast, it’s soft weight like a gentle flame in his hand. The nipple tightened against his palm, and he took a moment to tease it with the tips of his fingers.

Another low moan pulled from her, her ass grinding back against him.

_Fuck._

If she was so responsive in her sleep, what would she be like awake?

He knew he should have stopped then. He knew it was greedy. But Bucky wanted so much more of her. His hand slid back down to her waist before his fingers skimmed under her pajama bottoms. Moist heat greeted him as he found the edge of her panties. The heat of her only grew as his fingers slid lower, the perfume of her arousal reached his nose.

She was still asleep.

God, but he wanted her. He wanted _something._

Once upon a time, he’d been very good at bringing a woman pleasure. While the memories in his mind were vague, his fingers seemed to remember just fine. The tips of his fingers found the soft hair covering her lower lips, drops of her excitement already dotting the strands.

Bucky wondered what she was dreaming about…

His fingers slid further down, delving into those hot, wet folds and he just about came in his jeans. Already she was so ripe, so ready for him. It was all he could do not to rip her pajamas and panties away and just fuck her into the mattress.

_In time._

Where Steve had decided to just jump in and literally get it done – and Steve had _always_ been like that – Bucky didn’t want to rush her. She felt so good, so wet and welcoming. He could wait a little longer.

Bucky knew the moment she began to wake. Her breathing changed and her heart sped up. He didn’t mind that. It was when she stiffened in his arms, her thighs tightening around his hand ineffectually.

When she didn’t immediately speak, he tightened his vibranium arm around her and skimmed a finger over her clit. She jerked in his grasp but after a few easy strokes, she stopped trying to fight his hold.

“James?” she whispered.

Bucky moaned, nudging his heated length into her backside again. He _loved_ the way she said his name.

“What… I mean…”

Bucky resumed pressing soft kisses beneath her ear, teasing the delicate shell of it with his lips and tongue. He switched to tease her bundle of nerves with his thumb.

“Shhh,” he whispered into her ear, enjoying the way she shivered against him. “Relax.”

She did anything _but_ relax. When she tried to squirm away from his fingers, Bucky wrapped his leg over both of hers to hold her in place.

When he slid a single finger into her channel, she started to struggle. She didn’t get very far. It wasn’t anything for him to hold her in place and she couldn’t do a lot to hurt herself in her current position. His thumb drew circles around her clit as his finger explored inside her.

“Please… don’t,” she whispered tears in her voice.

“Why not?” Bucky trailed soft, wet kisses down her neck. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Please…”

After a couple of moments, he slid a second finger into her. She was tight, her walls not giving his fingers a lot of room. Gently, he pushed them a little deeper, his fingertips brushing against her walls.

The suspicious sound of sniffling mixed with the accelerated sound of her breathing, reaching his ears. Her small hands had grabbed onto his forearm, her nails pressing into his skin as she tried to pull his hand away from her. When she had no luck getting him to stop, her fingers curled around his arm and she kept herself stiff and still in his hold.

_No, that wouldn’t do._

Bucky wanted her to react, to like what he was doing to her. Patiently he slid his fingers in and out of her, gently teasing her clit while his fingers stroked inside her. All the while he teased the delicate place where her neck met her collarbone with his mouth because the wetness his fingers played in had noticeably increased with his efforts.

When he curled his fingers just so, she cried out, jerking in his grasp.

Bucky smiled behind her. _There._

Increasing the pressure of his thumb on her clit, Bucky tested that spot again causing her to release a shaking gasp as her thighs clamped around his hand hard.

“Just this,” he whispered, kissing his way back to her ear. “This is all I want right now… Just let me… Relax into it…”

“James… I…”

“Shhh,” he soothed her, using the lightest touch on the sensitive space he’d found inside her. With just a little more pressure on her clit, Bucky began working her in earnest. While he kept his hold on her body tight, his fingers between her legs he used an unbearably light touch.

Bucky knew the moment she surrendered to it, a different type of tension consuming her. He gave her only enough friction to drive her insane but not what she needed to come. She came alive in his arms. The globes of her ass rubbing against his aching cock was brutal, but he managed to hold on, devastating her with gentle curls of his fingers against her g-spot while he teased her ear, her jaw with his mouth.

“James…” It came out a moan, had him fighting off his own orgasm desperately.

No, he was going to make sure she got her release first.

“Need you to come for me… babydoll,” he panted into her ear. “Want to feel you fall apart… on my fingers.”

Her eyes were squeezed closed, her mouth open as she panted out in ecstasy. She was right on the edge.

_Fuck._ So was he.

“Come on,” he whispered, his lips and tongue teasing her earlobe. She really seemed to like _that_. “Want to feel you come… You’re so beautiful like this… shaking and desperate. Want to feel you come on my fingers…”

She moaned, twisted in his grip as she struggled to breathe.

“Can’t wait to feel you come on my tongue,” Bucky went on. “I’ll bet you taste so sweet…”

And that pushed her over the edge. Wetness flooded his fingers as he worked her through her orgasm, her breathy cries filling the room, filling his ears.

She liked that idea, did she?

Bucky came in his jeans like a damned horny teenager, growling it out behind her as he tried to focus on her, easing her down.

They collapsed against each other, her back to his chest and both struggling to breathe. Grinning at her, he was happy at that moment, He _could_ be careful enough to be intimate with someone. He could still bring a woman pleasure.

No, not any woman. _My girl._

Bucky rolled to his back. She rolled with him, watching wide-eyed as he sucked her juices off his fingers and groaned at her taste. It was just as sweet as he'd hoped.

***

Normally your dreams weren’t so dark or erotic. You dreamed of being in a lover’s arms. That wasn’t so unusual. You’d only ever had one lover before, and you’d stayed overnight with each other many times back in college. Things just hadn’t worked out. You needed to go to London to continue your education.

Danny had needed to go and fuck other people.

So you didn’t know the face of the man who wrapped himself around you in your dreamscape. You only knew that you loved the soft kisses he dropped onto your hair and skin. You loved the way he held you close to him. His hold was tight but it didn't hurt you.

When your dream lover’s hand brushed under your shirt, caressing the soft flesh of your stomach, you’d melted against him. He was so warm and strong behind you. First, his rough hand had slid up to cup your breast, teasing the center of it like a delicate thing, the petal of a flower.

He’d taken your breath away when that hand slid down, down into your pajama bottoms, into your panties. And with that touch, he’d mastered you. He’d taken you apart with his fingers, holding onto you and making you take it. Your core had tightened, your body weeping for him as you spiraled toward a sweeping release…

When you’d awakened, you discovered it was no dream.

Panic had you fighting against his hold, struggling to remember where you were and who had you. The denim-clad leg thrown over yours was heavy. The arm holding you to him was hard, unnaturally hard. In your peripheral vision, you’d caught glimpses of his face, the long dark locks of his hair.

With a finesse that a man his size shouldn’t have – a _killer_ shouldn’t have - James set your body on fire, holding you still until the flames consumed you. You would have been embarrassed at the way your cries filled the room as he worked you through the orgasm, but you’d been too lost to it.

He collapsed behind you, both of you fighting to breathe, and your mind spun. Danny had been able to bring you off sometimes. He liked to party so more often than not, he was drunk or high, and he’d come right away or not at all, leaving you to finish yourself in the bathroom or try to sleep it off.

_What had just happened with James?_

You understood your situation. You knew it was coming. And if he hadn’t taken you, you’d be in Argentina right now expected to serve your “Uncle” Leo. The thought made you shiver in revulsion.

Okay, this was _slightly_ better. James had killed you, but he was closer to your age, he was kind of attractive.

_He's a killer._

At least you hadn’t grown up thinking of him as a loving uncle.

Unless you could find a way out of the house, away from James who was a badass assassin, you were stuck _here_. If you managed to escape, there was no doubt in your mind that he’d kill you if he found you. He’d done it before.

If some miracle happened and you _did_ manage to escape and evade James, if HYDRA found you, _they_ would kill you.

The only option you did have, if you were to pull off an escape, would be to try to get to SHIELD. You probably didn’t have whatever they wanted from your father, you knew that. But they had agreed to help you with your father’s deal. Maybe someone there would take pity on you. Offer you protection.

It was a broken, sad sequence of “what ifs” and “maybes”…

Right now, you’d need to get your mind around the fact that he’d just done _that_ while you were asleep – Jesus Christ, you’d never felt anything like _that_ before. _That_ had almost incapacitated you.

Blowing out an exhale, James rolled onto his back and with that support gone, you did the same thing. Glancing up at him next to you on the bed, what you saw stunned you.

James was smiling, a smile that made him look like a completely different person. That smile made him look like… someone you would have tried to hit on in college.

He looked relaxed too. Had he come with you? In his jeans?

_Ugh, what’s wrong with you? Why do you care? He just violated you!_

He sucked the fingers he’d just had between your thighs into his mouth, moaning at the taste with a sound that you could only describe as pornographic. You knew you were staring at him open-mouthed.

Then you grabbed the covers and viciously yanked them over your head.

_Oh my God._

You heard him chuckle up there, a dark, rumbling sound and you yelped when you felt him pat your butt like you were a puppy.

“I’m off to clean myself up and make us breakfast, doll,” James told you.

So he _had_ came. _Guess that answers that question._

You didn’t move as you felt him shift on the bed, making his way off it.

You waited until you heard him reach the door, unlock it, close it again, and lock it. You didn’t move when you heard his heavy tread on the stairs.

When you really couldn’t hear him anymore, you scrambled out of the bed and into the bathroom, locking the door. You turned the shower on as hot as you could stand it and started peeling off your pajamas, intending to scrub him and your entire morning so far off your skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick couple of quick notes. I discovered Tumblr. (Stop laughing lol) Come find me at jtargaryen18.
> 
> Also, if you're not already reading this incredible Dark!Steve story, I'd like to invite you to read Die Besessenheir by imanuglywombat and sophiria. Seriously, you won't regret it. I love this. I'll see you in the comments over there; <https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830649/chapters/46956583>


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've had a head cold from hell for the last week and the cough won't go away. Coughing and smut writing are not mixy things. But it's all good. Because there be smut here...
> 
> It's a long chapter too at over 6k...

You’d hidden in the bathroom when James brought down breakfast. You’d showered in hot water until your skin nearly peeled off and dressed. Then you’d planted yourself on the bathroom floor, your back against the door.

James had brought you three meals a day since you'd been here. Each meal he brought down and you ate together on the couch in your rooms while he watched whatever was on television. It was almost scary in its domesticity. James didn’t try to engage you in conversation, and you had no idea what to say even if you'd been allowed. You both ate in silence and when you’d finished your meal, he put everything back on the tray he used and took it back upstairs. After dinner, he stayed, and eventually, he followed you to bed.

And normally you just slept.

Until this morning…

He brought breakfast down as he said he would. But you didn’t leave the bathroom. You didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound.

When you heard him leave from breakfast, and he was out there for several minutes, you finally ventured out of the bathroom. He didn’t leave you breakfast.

_Well, shit._

That wasn’t good because you had to admit, you were fed very well. You assumed he was doing the cooking. You’d never tell him as much, but he was a _very_ good cook. You’d noticeably gained a little weight and you’d only been there for a week. You _felt_ better.

Missing breakfast just added to the traumatic morning you’d had, waking up with his hand in your panties. Your face went up in flames just thinking about it. You’d been unable to stop him, and he’d actually made you come. _Hard._

Danny had never been able to do that.

_It felt good._

_Nope. Not going there._

The man had killed you in 2014. _That’s_ what mattered. That’s what you needed to remember.

You just couldn’t get your head around everything.

James _had_ killed you before. He’d explained now that HYDRA would be looking for you if they discovered you were still alive, and it was possible for them to figure that out. James had. He came to Berlin for you, to collect you.

Now he’d told you that you were _his_. You didn’t think he meant to kill you this time. It didn’t take you long to work out the implications of that.

You had nowhere else to go and you were his to use as he wished. Your body. You understood that.

Fear and your weakened physical state had you imagining all sorts of horrors in your head the first few days you’d been here. You imagined brutal rape, being bound to the bed, being tortured…

What happened this morning hadn’t been that.

_He still took advantage of you._

You were still trembling when you sat on the couch and waited, pulling your knees up to your chest.

You were torn. His fingers between your thighs had felt good until you really woke up and caught up to the program already in progress. Danny had never touched you like _that_. You’d read about g-spots in fanfics and in romance novels you’d enjoyed, but you’d never realized that it was _real_. What he’d made you feel with his fingers… The things he’d said…

It could have been worse. You could have been with Leo. You could have been killed at the airport.

You were safe from everything now but _him_. And James so far had fed you well, given you rooms with a television. At least with that, you’d been able to tell what day and time it was, to have something to watch. You’d never been a big TV watcher, but you had no idea how you were going to introduce that topic.

_Yeah, James, I know I’m your prisoner and all. But I’m bored..._

The second day you’d been here, he’d brought you three pairs of jeans that had fit perfectly and three tops, all long-sleeved and soft. They’d fit well too and all of it had been new. There’s been a package of panties and socks in that bag and you guessed he did laundry because each day you left your dirty clothes in a neat pile in the bathroom. By the next day, they were gone. They’d reappear folded and clean on the dresser in the bedroom.

He was usually gone each morning when you woke up.

Until today.

Your nerves nearly drowned you when lunchtime came, but it went quietly. There was no sign of James or food.

Then your worries went in another direction entirely. Why hadn’t he come back for lunch? Was he mad that you’d stayed in the bathroom for breakfast?

Or was he disappointed in you from earlier in bed? Had you done something wrong? Did he find your body or your reactions lacking?

_Have you lost your mind? He violated you and you’re worried you disappointed him?_

Worries preyed on your mind as the time ticked slowly by.

_You’ll keep me happy._

But he wasn’t happy, was he? He wasn’t here. James normally brought you lunch at the same time, dinner at the same time. What if he didn’t bring dinner?

_At least maybe you’d get to sleep without being molested._

Your stomach growled pitifully.

There was a water glass that you kept on your nightstand. You went to the bathroom sink and filled it with water, drinking it down. You’d learned from your time in Berlin that water could help dull hunger pains. Made you feel better temporarily anyway.

_What if James never comes back?_

The thought had occurred to you before but now it took on new meaning.

No one else knew you were here. Hell, aside from James only Leo knew you were even alive, and he was likely in prison somewhere. You didn’t even know exactly where you were though you could guess from the television channels you had access to that you were in America. You thought you were somewhere in New York but weren’t sure, judging from the local channels you’d had access to.

James’ accent sounded like New York. _Sometimes._ Sometimes you swore it had a Brooklyn swing to it. One of your best friends from college had been from Brooklyn and you knew that accent from him.

Dinner time came. And went. Hunger clawed at your insides as you sat miserably on the couch, considering what you would need to do if he never came back down. Could you escape? Would you eventually die?

If he _did_ come back, what were you going to _do_?

_You’ll keep me happy._

When you heard his heavy footsteps hit the stairs you jumped, relief and terror both washing over you as you curled up even tighter and watched as the door unlocked and James carried in a tray with dinner, locking the door behind him as he went.

You’d thought more than once that you _might_ stand a chance if you rushed him coming in that door one time. He’d be so occupied with the tray that maybe you’d make it past him. Maybe…

You shut that down as he made his way to you, that terrifyingly blank, unreadable expression on his face as he placed the tray down on the coffee table in front of you.

You were starving but you were afraid to just start grabbing things considering how the entire day had gone. You felt like you needed to say something. Like it or not, James had the power of life and death over you.

He straightened and pinned you with that expression, those blue-gray eyes assessing you in a way that made you want to sink into the couch and through the floor.

You thought you should say something. And you were too afraid to. A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you swiped at it with a trembling hand. He watched every move like he was waiting for you to spring at him.

“James…,” you managed. “I –”

Holding up a hand, he cut you off.

Before he could speak, your stomach growled out a loud protest. There was a gorgeous homemade pizza on that tray with what looked like freshly made breadsticks. _He baked._ You were going to start drooling any minute if you didn’t burst into tears first.

“I know you’re hungry,” he said calmly. “But we’re going to stop and talk about how things are going to go.”

Not knowing what else to do, you nodded.

“You’ll take your meals with _me_ ,” he told you, “or you don’t eat.”

Well, you’d learned _that_ today.

“You understand?”

“Yes,” you muttered, fighting not to cry at this point. “I’m s-sorry.”

“You have one job,” James told you. “Remember what that is?”

Again, you nodded. “To keep… you happy.”

“That’s right. You make me unhappy, there are going to be consequences… You understand?”

Another tear spilled down your face and you swiped at it impatiently. “Yes.”

“Good. This is the only warning you’re going to get.” James’ gaze locked with yours. “You’re _mine_ now. Is that in any way unclear in its meaning?”

Not after this morning.

You dropped your gaze then, your face heating in shame. You shook your head in answer.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, a small grin forming on his shapely lips. “You _came…_ so you must have liked it.”

That stopped you cold. James made it sound like a voluntary thing. _No._ He’d made you orgasm. You’d never felt anything like that in your entire life. You’d literally had no choice.

“Didn’t you?” he prompted.

Your gaze flew back to his face. He wanted you to _say_ it?

Dropping your gaze, you just nodded.

“Now let’s talk about the house for a minute,” he went on. “There are going to be times that I’ll have to be gone, sometimes for a few days at a time… I don’t think they’re ready to put me back on the longer missions just yet.”

_What?_ Missions? What did he do now? Who did he work for?

If he were gone for several days, how would you eat? What would happen to you?

Missions made it sound like he was military or at the very least, into something dangerous. What if something happened to _him_?

James had stopped talking and you looked up to meet his gaze. The assessing look he gave you made you seriously wonder if he really could read your mind.

“I’m going to get a full-sized refrigerator and install it down here over the weekend,” James explained. “I can bring a microwave down too. That should take care of you while I’m gone. But…”

But?

“If you try and _escape_ while I’m gone,” James’ expression was chilling. “You need to know what’s going to happen.”

He had your full attention now because you’d been contemplating that very thing. You seriously doubted that you’d get very far but you almost had to try. Right?

“The house is wired,” James explained. “High-tech Stark technology.”

_Stark technology?_

“You manage to make it through this door?” He stopped and hooked a thumb back in the direction of the door he kept locked, “I’ll know the second you do it. And if I’m out of town, I’ll deal with you the minute I get back. I promise you that.”

You shuddered at the warning and you knew it was visible. A tiny smirk formed on his mouth to see it.

“And if you should get that far, you try to make it through the windows or the doors to the outside up there? I’ll know,” he warned you. “If by some stroke of luck you make it out? I’ll find you. There’s not a place in this world where I _couldn’t_ find you.”

Wrapping your arms even tighter around your knees, you stared at him wide-eyed.

“You understand?”

You nodded.

James came around the table to take his usual seat on the couch next to you. Still afraid to move until he said, you stayed right where you were.

His gaze was on you, his right hand tucking a long lock of his dark hair behind his ear before he reached for his plate. The look was one of disapproval.

“I didn’t like you locking yourself away from me in the bathroom this morning,” Bucky’s tone was dead serious. “It would be nothin’ for me to break down the fucking door and pull you out the fuck of there. You understand?”

Your heart was slamming in your chest. You _did_ understand.

“I wasn’t very happy at breakfast,” James warned. “Next time, it will be more than a couple of skipped meals.”

That’s what you were afraid of.

“What do you want to say to me?” James wanted to know.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I think you can do better than that,” he said with a heated gaze. “But you can eat first.”

With that he pulled a pizza slice from the tray and handed the plate to you before serving himself. There were the breadsticks with marina sauce and glasses of water. You hadn’t immediately noticed the wine bottle there, opened and breathing. He poured a glass for you, a dark red, and you accepted it.

You took a sip before of it before you did anything else. It was a lovely cabernet franc with a nice array of flavors. Your eyes closed as you savored the taste. You’d always loved wine and it made you more than a little homesick for your flat in London, happier times.

When you opened your eyes, you let out a deep happy sigh and enjoying the way the wine warmed your belly. It took you a moment to notice that James was watching you closely.

“Thank you,” you told him honestly. “This is good.”

“Eat something,” he muttered at you. “Don’t throw that on an empty stomach.”

That wasn’t a problem because you were starving. You ate two slices of pizza and three breadsticks in very short order while you tried to not to draw his attention. James ate quietly, switching back and forth between news outlets while he ate.

You could have eaten more but decided to stop once you were somewhat full.

_But you can eat first…_

Once you were done, you curled up again, knees to chest on the couch while he watched different news stories. You finished your wine, enjoying the way it relaxed you. You needed that with the day you’d had.

After a few moments, he put the television on the history channel where you kept it most of the time. You’d planned to maybe teach history one day in a high school or on a university campus. Before you found out your father was working for the enemy. And you both died…

Setting his plate and glasses back on the tray, he nudged the coffee table away with one powerful leg, clearing room on the floor in front of him.

_Oh. Okay._

“Alright, doll,” he turned to you with a smirk. “You were telling me that you were sorry for this morning at breakfast.”

Sitting back on the couch next to you, James sat with his thighs spread but then he always sat that way. When he motioned to the space on the floor between his thighs. You’d guessed correctly. He wanted a blow job.

_You could do this._ It had been one of Danny’s favorite things. You weren’t bad at it because you had usually been able to bring him off pretty quickly.

Rising from the couch, you dropped to your knees between his legs. Your hands were shaking when you placed them on his knees, so you pressed your palms flat and slid them up his thighs.

You took a deep breath. _You could do this._

“You’ve done this before, right?” he asked, those intense blue-gray eyes on you.

You nodded quickly, your hands still smoothing over his thighs. He had really nice, thick, muscular thighs. Even _you_ had to admit that.

When your hands slid higher, over the sizeable bulge in the front of his jeans, those eyes slid closed for a moment, his hips rolling under your hands. His hands were on the couch on either side until yours moved up to his belt and began to pluck it open.

His hands closed over yours then to still them.

“What’s your rush, doll?” Those intense eyes were back on you now. His tongue slid over that pouting lower lip. “Not even going to warm me up first?”

You froze, panicked. What did he mean warm him up? Danny never cared that you got straight to business as long as he got that little treat. When he didn’t elaborate, your heart began to fly. You didn’t want to make him more unhappy after the day you’d had today.

“What… what would you like for me to do?” you asked carefully, not moving.

His smirk was decidedly wicked.

“I like a little foreplay,” he told you. “Why don’t you start by kissing me?”

_Kiss him?_ Was he serious?

You bit your lower lip nervously as you contemplated doing as he wished. Slowly, you straightened your back and moved closer to him, your gaze on his mouth. That gaze with those sharp eyes was making you more nervous than you already were. 

Pressing your lips to his, you were careful, light at first. The moment you felt like you should probably do something more, James angled his head and took the kiss over. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, pressing for entrance. One of his hands captured yours, bringing it up to his head, pressing your fingers into his hair.

You allowed his tongue into your mouth. He kissed in a way that took your breath away. He may have moved one of your hands into his hair, but both hands were there after a moment. Your fingers sank into the thick, smooth locks and he growled at you when your fingernails grazed his scalp.

James was such a good kisser.

_And he killed you. Focus._

After a moment, you needed to breathe so you pulled your head back, your hands staying in his hair. In something like contentment, James eased his head back onto the couch, leaving his eyes closed. It took you a moment, but you thought you understood what he wanted. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, his jaw. You chained kisses up until you reached his ear.

When you brushed a kiss over his earlobe he hummed. When you took the lobe into your mouth to tease with your tongue, your hands still in his hair, his moan was a deep rumble in his chest. Sliding your hands down from his hair to his chest, your mouth followed, kissing down his neck.

James sighed in contentment as you felt the hard, muscled wall of his chest beneath your hands. You teased the sensitive flesh at his neck with your lips and tongue until his hips were rolling up and against you. Your fingers grabbed the hem of the navy-colored Henley he wore, thinking he might want to take that off for the next part.

Again, his hands closed over yours to stop you.

“No,” he said, halting your attention. “Leave it.”

Was it because of his hand?

Your hands went back to his belt, shaking now but he let you undo it, let you unfasten his jeans. Wanting to get everything over with, you clutched the jeans and his boxers to pull them down. James lifted his hips to help you. He pulled off his boots fast, pulled one leg free of the jeans to give you both room to move.

Then you got an eyeful of him. His cock was as imposing as the rest of him, huge with a slight curve. And his thighs? Yeah, they were even more spectacular than you thought.

_Wow._

Your hand slid up towards him, but he stopped you again, waiting until you met his gaze.

“I probably don’t have to say this but,” he said slowly. “No teeth… Take it easy.”

No, he didn’t have to say it. You weren’t stupid. He was in the perfect position to snap your neck if you did something he didn’t like. And you didn’t doubt for a second that he would do it.

He released your hand again and you slid it up to take him in hand, hating that he could see you trembling.

James more than filled your hand. You began working him with firm even strokes as your other hand rose to his sac, gently caressing him there. James leaned his head back again, but his eyes stayed on you. Yeah, it made you a little nervous.

It also threw down a challenge. James seemed to want you to learn what he liked? Okay, then.

Your touch became firmer. Your fingers wrapped around him a little tighter, your fingers at his sac squeezed lightly. Your touch drew a moan from him at that, his gaze smoldering at your from under those thick, dark lashes. His teeth had captured his bottom lips as he watched you work.

You could do better than that.

When you darted down to play with his sac with your lips and tongue, he groaned out a porno-worthy sound. You’d caught him off guard, you knew. His real hand caught in your hair then, but it didn’t hurt. He just hung onto you as you teased his balls with your mouth. You kept at him relentlessly, until he couldn't sit still.

When you were done, stroking his cock all the while, you licked a stripe up his shaft and had the satisfaction of watching his eyes close as you moved up to swirl your tongue around the swollen head of him. You could tell he was fighting for control as you pulled his head into your mouth carefully.

“That feels amazing, doll,” he whispered. “God, you’re so good… so fucking good.”

You didn’t respond. You kept eye contact with him as you worked him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down to get more of him. James was quite a bit bigger than Danny, but you’d make it work. You kept on, swirling your tongue the entire time in a way that had him swearing under his breath until he hit the back of your throat. Then you went a little further.

Both his hands were on your head as you worked him in and out of the top of your throat. You kept your tongue and hands moving. When you began swallowing around him, James’ grip in your hair was slightly painful.

“Fuck!” he yelled as you continued to work him.

And then he was coming right down your throat, his hands holding your head in place and you concentrated on breathing through it, on swallowing everything. On the one hand, you were pretty damned proud of being able to bring _him_ off as you did. Assassin or not, he was still just a man and you needed to remember that.

On the other hand, you were a little afraid of what would happen next. Instead of sinking into the couch, looking sleepy and happy as Danny would have done, his gaze on you was heated. James didn’t look that tired at all.

He leaned forward, almost a lunge, and you found yourself pressed onto your back on the carpet with him over you. The long strands of his dark hair hung around his face as those incredible eyes took you in.

“My turn,” he whispered.

Your hands came up to fend him off weakly, but he easily collared your wrists in his metal hand and pressed them to the floor above you. With his other hand under you, he moved you along the floor until your fingers were pressed against one of the coffee table’s legs.

He stopped then, his gaze meeting yours meaningfully.

“Grab onto that,” he ordered you.

You did, holding on for dear life and more than a little afraid of what he was going to do.

“Don’t let go of that until I say,” he told you. “Understand?”

You nodded.

“I’d rather not have to tie you up,” James told you before releasing your hands and waiting a beat to make sure you were going to comply.

You’d rather he didn’t tie you up either.

James leaned down and claimed your mouth for a deep, heated kiss. It wasn’t lost on you that he’d just finished in your mouth, he could probably taste himself there. His deep groan in your mouth had your heart racing. The kiss took your breath away with the finesse and heat he put into it.

His hands pulled up the hoodie you wore to just under your arms and you felt his hands, one in a glove and one warm and rough, as they slid up your torso to palm your breasts. He groaned into your mouth as his flesh hand slid under you to unfasten your bra before pushing it up impatiently.

You were gasping for breath when he broke the kiss to capture your hardened nipple between his lips. His tongue lashed against it and he sucked on the tight little peak in turns. You felt the pull all the way down to your core and your thighs squeezed together as his mouth played with you.

James shifted his mouth to the other breast while his hands began to trail down to your waist, to your hips. His mouth was busy at your breast when his hand slid in between your thighs, applying pressure to your heated core through your jeans.

Your little cry got his attention.

“You still hanging on for me?” his breath was coming fast too. He visually verified the position of your hands. “You being a… good girl for me?”

You nodded but his fingers disrupted that, knowing just where to press, even with the denim in the way.

Your fingers were wrapped around the table leg so tightly you knew your knuckles had to be white. You moaned again when his fingers pulled away from you, his hands working at the opening of your jeans. Roughly he pulled your jeans and panties down, leaving you bare beneath him save for your hoodie and bra pushed up to your neck and the white ankle socks you wore.

His hands landed on your knees and you jerked beneath him in surprise.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his expression heated as it roamed over your body. “You’re beautiful, doll baby…"

His hands slid up the inside of your thighs and he situated himself between them, to make room for himself. His flesh hand slid up to the bare flesh of your pussy, tracing the lips with his index finger as his eyes drank in the sight of you open for him.

“You always do this?” his smoldering gaze meeting yours.

You were uncomfortable being on display for him, struggling to hold his gaze and feeling tears sting the backs of your eyes. You nodded, not wanting to know what color you were turning under that gaze.

“Why?”

He was asking you why you completely shaved? It took everything you had not to scramble away, to hold onto that table leg like he insisted you do. A tear slid from the corner of your eye.

“I just… like how it looks, okay?” you replied bitterly.

James chuckle only made it worse. He had you laid open like a science experiment and that was funny?

“I _love_ how it looks,” he whispered. “I can imagine what I’m about to do feels much better because you shaved.”

More tears. You wanted to wipe them away so he couldn’t see.

“You don’t…” you whispered and then stopped, cursing yourself for speaking out of turn.

“What?” he asked. That finger sank into your folds, finding you embarrassingly wet.

How you wished you could pass out or sink through the floor. Anything.

“It’s okay,” James prompted you. “Say it.”

You sniffled now. _Could this get any worse?_

“You don’t… have to,” you whispered.

You remembered the two times Danny had gone down on you. Both times were out of obligation. Neither time was he able to get you off. He'd even hinted when he left you that maybe something was wrong with _you_ because of it.

“Oh, no, doll,” he whispered. “I _want_ to… It’s one of the things I’ve thought about most… How you taste…How you'll feel dancing on my tongue.”

Lowering himself onto his elbows, James stretched out on his stomach, positioning himself between your trembling thighs.

Above him, you were blinking back tears of humiliation and just… Should you jump up and run and take whatever punishment? You thought you could skip some meals if it would get you out of _this._

“Don’t be like that,” James whispered. “I think I used to be really good at this.”

_What?_

As you watched, he inhaled you. He pulled your left leg over his shoulder, leaning in to press a wet kiss to the tender inside of your thigh.

_Please don’t._

More kisses dotted your inner thighs, your lower tummy. He took his time, holding you open and teasing you with kisses all around your quivering, weeping center. All you could do is watch wide-eyed, waiting for him to find you lacking.

When his mouth closed over you, he started by kissing your pussy as he would your mouth. Gentle, soft at first. When his tongue slid into your folds to gently tease your clit, the jolt of pleasure distracted you from your discomfort. When he did it again, your hips jerked off the floor of their own volition, wanting more of _that_.

Then he really dove in, his eyes on you all the while. His left arm wrapped around your thigh, holding it tightly. He used his shoulder to keep your thighs wide for him while he devastated you with his lips and tongue. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry as his tongue teased your clit with quick laps and licks before diving down to tease your opening in a circuit that had every nerve ending in your body on fire.

His metal hand moved to press flat on your tummy, holding you still for him as he took you apart with his mouth. Over and over he teased you, not allowing you to squirm away from him, not letting up as the heat in your core, your entire body, grew. You’d forgotten all about anyone else, being embarrassed, being naked – _everything_. You just didn’t want him to stop as every part of your body tightened, bracing for the release he was about to unleash in you. When his lips sealed over your clit, sucking it gently and moaning around it, you let go with a scream.

James didn’t stop, just worked you through it as pleasure wracked your entire being. He kept at you with his mouth, drawing it out longer.

“You taste so good,” he whispered, lifting his head as a single finger slid easily into your channel. His finger gently explored your walls, almost immediately finding that spot he’d exploited that morning.

Humming as your body jerked in response, a smile formed on his lips. “Love how responsive you are, doll,” he whispered. “How wet you are for me…”

Another finger sank into you and when he curled those fingers just right, you howled, trying desperately to close your legs on him but unable to.

“Just one more, doll,” he whispered as his fingers began to delicately focus on that weak spot within you. “Just want to bring you off one more time.”

When his mouth closed over your clit, you saw stars. You cried out as the orgasm shook you and he kept you dancing as long as he could on the tips of his tongue and fingers.

You were a quivering, shaking mess when he rose up on his knees, his cock hard, angry and red. As you lay there watching, the last of your release making your insides clench, he worked himself with his hand. Only a few strokes and he leaned forward, thick white ropes of his come shooting across your tummy, ribs, and breasts.

Your passage clenched around nothing while your gaze was on the diminishing length of his cock. He noticed, licking his lower lip as he rose from the floor and marched to the bathroom.

You’d been surprised that he hadn’t just fucked you, that he’d finished himself off like that.

_Had you wanted him to fuck you?_

Trying to push the thought out of your mind, you watched as he came back with warm washcloths and gently cleaned you up. He wiped away his release from your skin and your own from between your thighs.

“Let go,” he told you, his gaze on your hands. And you did.

James helped you to sit up before pulling your hoodie and bra off and helping you into your panties and pajamas like you were a child. When he finished, his flesh hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that was sweet, almost caring.

With a deep sigh, he rose from the floor and pulled on his boxers. Pulling you up from the floor, his gaze swept the couch area.

“I’ll get all this in the morning. Let’s get to bed.”

Allowing him to hold your hand and pull you along, you climbed into bed and waited for him to do the same. You didn’t lay down just yet as you watched him stretch out, still wearing the Henley with his boxers.

James sensed you wanted to ask him something. He always knew.

“What’s up, doll?”

Did you dare ask?

“Why do you sleep in your shirts? That glove?” you asked carefully. “I… know you have a metal hand.”

You read insecurity in the look he shot you over his shoulder where you sat behind him. When he lowered his head back to the pillow, you didn’t think he meant to answer you.

Your heart squeezed in your chest. You felt like a jerk for even asking.

“It’s a bit more than that,” he muttered, not reaching up to turn the lamp out. “I’m… disfigured.”

Your heart was slamming in your chest. But you’d gone this far.

“Can I… see?” you asked gently.

James blew out an exhale. At first, you didn’t think he meant to answer you.

Slowly, he pushed up in bed in front of you. His gaze met yours as he pulled the black glove from his left hand revealing the metal hand you knew was under there.

But it wasn’t the same hand you remembered. The same hand with silver fingers that had closed around your throat. The metal was shiny black with golden accents.

“That… looks different,” you said gently, reaching out to touch it but pulling your hand back. Not wanting to push too far.

James surprised you when he grabbed the hem of the Henley he wore, pulling it up and over his head. His gaze never left you as his upper body was revealed.

Not just his hand. His entire arm was a prosthetic, elegant black with the golden accents. It was attached at his shoulder, surrounded by scar tissue where it was attached.

What had happened then?

Before you thought about it, your hand came up to trace where the prosthetic joined to his arm, tracing the scarred flesh there with a finger. Your gaze took in the front, moved to the back.

“Does… I’m sorry,” you whispered.

James shook his head. “Say it.”

“Does it… hurt?”

“No, doll, it doesn’t.”

You slid your hand down the cool metal of the arm, tracing the designs here and there until you reached the hand.

“You didn’t have this… when… “ _You killed me?_

Guilt and sadness blended in his stormy eyes as his gaze met yours. “No, I only got this a few months ago.”

You nodded, your gaze moving over the arm, the scarring of his flesh around it.

It was obvious he was uncomfortable, felt exposed. You didn’t want to prolong it.

_But he killed you. Why do you care?_

“It’s… not so bad,” you said simply, meaning it. “Thank you… for letting me see.”

James nodded, tossing the shirt off the side of the bed and reaching to turn out the lamp. He settled onto his side as he always did with his back to you.

You stretched out in bed behind him as you always did. James, the man who’d once killed you, liked to be the little spoon. Pressing yourself against him, and he was a welcome warmth in the cold nights in your lower-level rooms, you wrapped your arm around him as you always did, him raising what you now knew to be his prosthetic arm to let you. His heart was beating faster than normal against your palm.

Hoping you hadn’t upset him with your request, but knowing you had, you felt guilty. Softly, you lifted your head and pressed a kiss against the scar tissue at his shoulder. Then you dropped your head to your pillow, exhausted from his earlier attentions and pretty quickly fell asleep.

You never knew about the tear that slid from his eye at your gentle gesture.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one, darker than AHIAR. It's a tale of unhealthy obsession and is intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.

_You were sleeping soundly, the movement of the train relaxing as you dreamt of Paris. It was one of your favorite cities and you would get to stay for a couple of days with your father, take in the sights. After the fright of the last several days, losing your life and education in London, it would be a nice respite._

_Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. A metal hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the life out of you._

_Your eyes flew open and a man with long dark hair hovered above you, his silver hand with a death grip on your throat. You couldn’t pry his hand away and the pounding of your panicked heart thundered in your ears._

_You didn’t want to die._

_Tears seeped from your eyes as you tried to fight, tried to breathe._

_The man above you didn’t relent. There was darkness in place of his face…_

You woke up screaming.

As the world appeared around you, the blue bedroom with its dark antique furniture, your screams slowed.

It was a dream. _It was a dream…_

You were alone in the bed. You were alive. Your hands slid up to your throat, expecting to feel your windpipe caved in or to feel deep finger indents.

You couldn’t help the sobs that came on next. Deep, horrible sobs wracked you as you pulled your knees up to your chest and cried.

_It had felt so real…_

You jerked when you felt the bed dip next to you. You never heard James come down the stairs or into your room. But he was there, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. His metal hand wasn’t covered and you felt his hands, rough and warm, smooth and cold moving over your back and hair gently.

“Shhh,” James pressed a kiss into your hair, trying to soothe you. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You burrowed into his warmth, your entire body shaking. Your arms wrapped around him and you hung on for dear life. You thought you were safe. You wanted to feel safe again.

_This is so fucked up. James is the one who killed you._

“It was just a nightmare,” he whispered in your hair. “Not real… I’m here with you… I have them too.”

_Nightmares about killing people?_

_Did he ever have nightmares about you?_

You cried in your murderer’s arms.

But he was all you had. You were supposed to be dead. If he hadn’t taken you, you’d be Leo’s wife in Argentina. The Avengers had captured him easily. Would he have been able to keep you safe as he promised?

You didn’t know what James did now, but you were probably safer with _him_. If he was no longer with HYDRA, maybe he was strong enough to keep you safe.

You wanted to tell him nightmares about doing terrible things to other people weren’t the same as nightmares about terrible things happening to _you_. James wouldn’t know what it was like to be at someone’s mercy. He’d never know what it was like to be captive, dependent on someone else for his very existence.

You couldn’t imagine him being afraid of anyone.

_Then why is he comforting you now?_

You had no idea how long you sat there crying it out. James didn’t move or complain, he stayed right there with you. When you grew quiet, he pulled back from you, tipping your chin up so you had to look at him.

“Better?”

You nodded.

His eyes were kind, his touch confident. Gently he rose from the bed, turning to brush his hand over your head.

“I’ll go make us some breakfast,” he told you. His hair was still wet from his shower and the gray Henley he wore today fit him like a second skin. It was wet from your tears. “You going to be okay for a few minutes, doll?”

You nodded, not knowing what to say right now. You dropped onto your side, curling up in a ball.

James lingered, you could tell he was unsure if he thought you were okay for the moment or not. After a minute, he hurried back out to the door, locking it behind him and marching up the stairs.

_You were so messed up right now._

The man who took your life before now held you prisoner. The really fucked up part? You found him attractive. You’d already accepted that he was going to do what he wanted with you, with your body. Hell, he even made it feel good.

_But it was wrong. Just so wrong…_

Your head was starting to hurt from crying and your eyes were blurry. You lifted a hand to swipe at your eyes when you felt something hard in the sheets next to you. You grabbed the item, holding it up so you could see it.

The knife must have slipped out of James’ pocket. It was sharp and heavy. It wasn’t a huge knife, but it was as scary looking as he could be.

_What could you do with that?_

Because he could move so fast and so silently, you slid it quickly into your pillowcase, underneath. Hiding it. You never knew when something like that could come in handy.

***

[Steve’s girl]

Your phone rang began to ring on the bedside table. Problem was, you were currently pinned underneath just over two hundred pounds of very amorous super-soldier. Steve’s lips were scorching a path down your neck while his hands were sliding up under your pajama top.

You were trying to reach for the phone, to at least see who it was. Steve grabbed your hand to stop you and pressed it down to the mattress.

“Leave it,” he purred, teasing your shoulder with his mouth in a way that had your toes curling.

“But Nat,” you gasped out as he pushed up your pajama top and his lips closed around your nipple.

“Can wait,” he whispered as he kissed his way across your chest to the other breast.

Your hands speared into his hair as you hung on. The phone stopped ringing.

His tongue swirled around your nipple as his hand slid into your panties.

Steve’s phone began to ring.

“Steve,” you tried while he was yanking off your pajama pants and panties off as fast as he could.

“Not right now.” His gaze was heated as he smirked at you then pressed kissed down to your belly button, swirling his tongue into the indent because he knew you were ticklish.

“Stop!” you laughed and tried to push him away. Steve wasn’t having it. He grabbed both your wrists, continuing to tease you relentlessly. You laughed, begged him to stop.

His phone stopped ringing. Your phone rang again.

“Steve?”

You were a little concerned because Bette was literally due to have her baby any time. Was she in labor? Was everything okay?

But Steve had his mouth on you now and you were able to tune out the phone ringing as he took you apart with his mouth and fingers. The first orgasm left you gasping above him. You thought that the phone had finally stopped ringing. When he slid two fingers into you, his wide shoulders keeping you spread open for him, your hands were grabbing his head, the bedding when he began to curl them.

You were on the verge of another powerful orgasm when someone pounded on your bedroom door so hard and fast it just about gave you a heart attack, had you jerking away from him on the bed.

Steve looked adorably dazed, your juices shiny on his mouth and his hair askew as he scrubbed a hand through it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered under his breath.

“Steve, get off Y/N and both of you get ready,” Nat’s voice was commanding on the other side of the door. “Fury’s called a meeting in 20, which you’d _know_ about if you’d check your phone. I need Y/N to stay with Bette because her due date is tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Steve called back, not trying to hide his irritation. “We’ll be right out.”

“I’m waiting,” she returned.

You were still trembling as you reached for your discarded panties to pull them on. Your body was still humming, but you could do this… You could grab a quick shower and be ready in twenty minutes.

Steve looked entirely disgruntled on the bed, the tent at the front of his boxers looking painful.

You'd just adjusted the water to jump in the shower when he came in behind you and dragged you in under the water.

“I can finish this in twenty minutes,” he promised you.

You couldn’t help but giggle as Steve hauled you up by your thighs and pinned you to the shower wall.

***

Bucky frowned at the text from Fury that there was an impromptu meeting within the next hour. If a mission were coming up and he was left alone without the rest of the team when Nat’s baby arrived, he knew his time would be seriously divided between helping her in the team’s absence and his girl.

He didn’t like that idea. She was shaken up by that nightmare.

He’d just finished plating breakfast so at least that was done. He needed to make an adjustment to his arm too before he left. Tucking the small toolkit he used for minor adjustments under his arm, he picked up the tray to take breakfast down.

He was a little worried about her this morning. Seeing that she hadn’t showered or dressed as she normally did made it a little worse. She sat forlorn on the couch, knees pressed to her chest and her arms wrapped around them so she looked like a bundle, trying to make herself smaller. Her hair hung loosely about her face like she meant to hide behind it.

Had _he_ done that?

The nightmare had to have been about the train and what he’d done to her under HYDRA’s control. All he could do was tell her that he understood, hold her.

He really did understand. He’d had nightmares often. The funny thing was he hadn’t had a single nightmare since sharing a bed with her. He had to wonder if he was able to subconsciously keep them away out of fear of hurting or scaring her. Maybe having her cuddled up to him every night, even if it was for warmth, was a comfort to him. Kept the nightmares away.

She’d been so strong so far. It was hard to see her like this. Carefully he placed the tray on the coffee table and walked around to sit next to her on the couch. Now that he had a closer look at her, she was still slightly trembling.

Maybe _he’d_ pushed too far. Sighing, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. Yeah, he wanted to get her used to him touching her, eventually taking her. But maybe he’d moved too fast. He didn’t want to traumatize her.

Bucky wanted her to want him. To _crave_ him.

Maybe he should have waited.

When she didn’t move at all, he pulled the toolkit from under his arm and set it next to him on the couch. If he had enough time to make an adjustment to his arm with the tools Shuri had given him, he would. But he angled his body on the couch to face her, more than a little concerned about her state of mind.

“Are you okay, doll?” he finally asked.

The look she cut him, well, he could guess what she was thinking. Her laugh was a dry humorless sound.

“Does it matter?” she asked, her voice making her sound dangerously close to tears.

Bucky slowly nodded. “Not that I expect you to believe me, but… yes, it does. It matters to me.”

Dropping her gaze, she didn’t say anything. When a couple of minutes passed, he pulled a plate from the tray and handed it to her. He’d noticed that she really liked his omelets so he made them with cheese, fresh mushrooms, and peppers. She took the plate and shifted to place it on her lap. 

After a moment, she began to eat and so did he, catching up on the news as he always did. His mind wasn’t on it.

_Does it matter?_

As if he didn’t feel like enough of a cold-hearted bastard.

“What… what’s it like?” her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear her.

“What’s what like?” Bucky asked calmly.

“Always being the strongest,” she whispered. “Always being… the one to be feared.”

Bucky’s heart broke a little.

Sure, he’d been a nightmare to many, HYDRA’s instrument of death. But his mind, his will, had not been his own. The truth was, he knew a little something about being at the mercy of someone else.

His nightmares were as often about the horrors he’d experienced under HYDRA’s thumb as they were about his victims. They’d done a lot with him. Horrors she’d never experience, terrors she would never know. He wouldn’t allow it.

_Look at her…_

What had he thought? That she’d be grateful that he’d taken her? She’d be grateful for his protection? She didn’t see it that way.

Bucky could doubt his actions all he wanted but there was little he could do about it now. As easily as SHIELD had been infiltrated in the past, if he turned her over to them, HYDRA would find her if they didn’t know she was alive already.

If HYDRA got their hands on her? The daughter of a traitor? There’d be no mercy.

She was safest hidden here.

As Bucky quietly ate his breakfast, he vowed to protect her. She might hate him as long as she lived but she was his.

His phone went off then. Setting his plate on the table, he pulled his phone from his pocket to see Nat was calling.

“Hey,” he answered, not really wanting to take a call down here. He usually didn’t get very many calls at all. And they were usually from Steve.

“Meeting in fifteen minutes,” Nat informed him. “You on your way?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. What was so goddamned important? The timing couldn’t be worse. His girl was upset…

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he muttered, hanging up.

His appetite was gone. He rose from the couch.

He hated the way she watched him with big haunted eyes. What he wouldn’t give to see her look at him a different way. Like he wasn’t a monster. Like he was worthy of her.

Hell, anything would be better than the lost look on her face.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he leaned down to put himself on her eye level.

“I have to go,” he explained, looking into her eyes. “I hope not for long.”

_Shit. What can I say?_

“I’m sorry,” he just said it. “I really don’t want to go right now. I just… want you to be okay.”

Bucky watched the tears well up in her eyes. But she didn’t say a thing.

_Jesus. I’m just making it worse._

“I’ll be back,” he whispered, making his way to the door and leaving everything behind.

He just hoped by all that was holy this fucking meeting didn’t last very long.

***

Bucky pulled into the compound right behind Steve in his SUV. His best friend got out of his vehicle with a huge smile on his face.

_Am I fucking missing something about this meeting?_

They walked together, Bucky’s mind back at his house. His girl needed him there…

“Any idea what this is about?” Bucky grumbled.

Steve looked way too happy. “Nope. I just know Nat is all about us getting here for it.”

“No shit,” Bucky told him. “She called me. Since when do we get calls to make sure we’re on our way to meetings?”

Steve shrugged as they reached the elevator.

They were the last members of the team to make it, everyone else appeared to be there. Nat grinned at both of them as they grabbed the last two seats at the table.

Fury seemed to share Bucky’s annoyance, rising from his chair at the head of the table.

“Alright,” he said to Nat. “They’re all here.”

And with that, Fury returned to his seat and Nat stood at the head of the table.

“As you all know,” she began with a grin, “My baby mama is due tomorrow. But Baby Romanoff could technically be born at any time now. So I wanted to make sure all of you had your assignments.”

Clint, who apparently knew this was coming, snickered.

Sam, damn him, grinned like this was a great thing.

Tony blinked rapidly, sat forward in his seat. “Excuse me? Assignments? For Baby Romanoff?”

Nat smiled at him sweetly. “Yes.” Picking up a slim manila folder, she slid it down the table to him. “Your job, Tony, is to test the security system in the baby’s room one final time, make sure any upgrades are installed. I’d also like an update on the integration of the baby monitoring system with the overall security system.”

Tony looked incredulous. Nat was all business, staring him down.

“Bruce?” Nat continued. “You and Helen will coordinate with the obstetrician and make sure she is on stand-by. There’s also a list of questions about the delivery and post-surgical care I’d like answered.”

Another manila folder slid down the table.

Bucky scrubbed a hand down his face while Steve sat back in his chair and seemed amused by everything.

_Fuck my life._

***

[Steve’s girl]

Nat had insisted you ride with her to her house to stay with Bette. You had her number in your phone and complete, written out instructions on the steps you were to take if Bette should go into labor while Nat was at her meeting.

The two of you sat in Nat’s living room, Bette sipping hot tea while you arranged pillows behind her back, trying to make her more comfortable.

“I’m as big as a whale,” Bette moaned, trying to get comfortable but not quite hitting that note. “I sure hope tomorrow is the day. She pretty much stays on top of my bladder now. I feel like I have to pee every five minutes.”

Still, Bette had been such a good sport about it.

“Did you guys decide anything on nursing?” you had to ask. It had been a topic of much debate for the last week or so.

Bette blew out an exhale. “You know… I agreed to it. I mean, I’m living here until next May and with her covering my expenses? It _is_ best for the baby.”

You admired your friend for her decision. There’d been such a change in Bette since you’d first encountered her that day in Subway to have lunch with Wong the Wizard. Then she’d been pale, tired-looking. Worried.

Bette was the picture of perfect health with no sign of a shadow beneath her eyes, rosy-cheeked and healthy. Nat had very unobtrusively modified Bette’s diet, managed her really. But she did it in a nurturing way. Bette only felt very cared for as opposed to being forced to do anything.

You thought about the letter you’d written to yourself that seemed like a lifetime ago. You’d said Nat was a very good mother.

You’d been wrong. Nat was going to be the _best_ mother.

You talked for a few moments before Bette struggled to rise from the couch. You got up to help her, giggling at her lack of balance. She looked so cute, her baby bump nearly as big as she was. You intended on helping her to the bathroom when she stopped abruptly, her hands flying to her baby bump.

Bette leaned way forward, almost falling but you caught her,

When you looked down wondering what she was trying to see, you saw the wetness on her legs, feet, the rug she stood on.

Bette looked at you with huge eyes. “I think my water just broke.”

You had to call Nat. _Now._

***

You sat there for a long time after James left, his words running circles in your head.

_I just… want you to be okay._

It made things a hundred times worse.

_He sounded so sincere._

James had killed you for HYDRA. For whatever reason, the universe brought you back and he found you. He kidnapped you and was keeping you at his house.

It would have made sense for him to have brutalized you, raped and beaten you. It would have made sense for him to starve you, to keep you in poor conditions. You would have expected him to eventually kill you again.

While a case could be made for sexual assault, a weak one because you didn’t exactly fight him that hard, James had locked you in the lower part of his house. _True._ But he’d taken good care of you. You ate well, you were warm, safe.

_Why?_

You wanted so badly to understand. James was hard to read. Mostly he acted the part of your captor, aloof but with the threat of the past not far away at all. Your fear of what had happened before had made you afraid to really challenge him up to this point.

Did he feel guilty for killing you? 

At other times, and it was those times that messed with your head, he _wanted_ you.

No, it was more than that. James didn’t just want to _take_ from you. Yesterday he’d decided to take your relationship to a physical level. You’d tried to prepare yourself for that. You knew it would be an expectation.

You _hadn’t_ expected to enjoy it.

It just didn’t feel like he was using your body to get himself off. Even before yesterday, there were moments when those stormy eyes filled with such emotion when he looked at you. He wanted you to hold him, to touch him. It wasn’t even limited to sexual touches. He seemed to just want to feel your arms around him, your fingers in his hair.

He wanted you to kiss him.

_What did that all mean?_

Tears stung the backs of your eyes as you stopped to consider that the man wasn’t right. He just might be crazy. He’d been an assassin for HYDRA. What could that do to a person?

You needed to be careful. You knew what he was capable of and you didn’t want to die again.

James wanted so badly for you to think he was your only shot at life this time around. A life with _him_.

You weren’t ready to accept that. You had to do something.

You had to _try_.

After a shower and getting dressed, you came back out into the living room and were about to sit down when something on the couch caught your eye. A small metal box just sitting on the cushion. Had he brought it down?

Taking a seat next to it, you opened the small black metal case to reveal a number of small metal tools. The gold edging inside the case made you think of his prosthetic arm. Maybe the tools were for that?

You stopped to remember how reluctant he’d been to show you his arm, the horrible scarring around it. Why had he been so self-conscious with you? What did it matter what _you_ thought? You were his captive.

You’d been about to put the case back down and close it when the idea came to you.

Each year in high school, your father had paid for you to go to a pretty expensive local summer camp. Probably because he worked so much, and he didn’t want you to be alone all summer.

You’d loved those days at the camp. The village was composed of nice wooden cabins where you and your fellow attendees stayed. You were locked in each night for protection they’d said. But all it did was make you more determined to find ways to sneak out and see your friends. Some girls snuck out to meet boys, but you hadn’t been interested in that back then.

Your friend Emma came from the other side of town, her family hadn’t had a lot of money. She had an uncle who’d done time in jail for larceny and petty theft. He’d taught her how to pick locks and she had taught _you._ That little trick had enabled you to come and go as you pleased in the camp after dark. You and Emma had walked to the pond to talk and swim for hours…

The tools were small and fine enough. _Could_ you use them to pick the lock on the door?

Maybe.

James told you that he’d know the minute you did.

But what if you _could_ make it out the door? Make it out of the house entirely?

He promised you he’d find you. That there was no place you could go where he couldn’t find you.

He’d figured out you were alive and came for you in Berlin, didn’t he?

You’d take that risk. Otherwise, you were stuck here trying to figure out his motives. And you weren’t even sure that was possible at this point.

Brushing away tears, and with determination in your heart, you scooped up the case and headed for the door. He had _hoped_ he wouldn't be gone long. Maybe you had time. You had to move fast.

***

Bucky had been grateful that the phone call Nat received brought an end to the meeting. Until he realized it was Steve’s girl and what had happened.

Bette had gone into labor.

_Fuck._

Steve looked down at the list of responsibilities Nat had given to both him and Steve and shook his head. Nat didn’t need every single person on the team for this. Labor could take hours. There had to be some way around this so he could get back home. While Nat’s baby was important, his girl was upset, and he wanted to get back. He didn’t want to hurt what little progress he’d made with her by being gone too long.

“You ready, pal?” Steve grinned at him as he rose from the table.

A car had already delivered Steve’s girl and Bette to the compound. Steve and Bucky had been tasked with getting a series of boxes that Nat had prepared for the hospital stay from her house and delivering them to the medical bay.

Medical was alive with activity when he and Steve got there. Nat had corned the obstetrician while a nurse took them to Bette’s room.

The pregnant girl lay in bed chatting with Steve’s girl and the other girl, he thought her name was Claire, by her side. She looked comfortable enough. They set the boxes in the corner of the room and Steve turned around to hug his girl, listening to her telling him about what had happened with Bette.

Since Steve was caught up in that, Bucky decided he’d get the boxes opened up. Reaching for one the knives he usually kept on him, his fingers found an empty sheath. Frowning, he searched the empty holder at his belt.

_Strange._

Pulling the knife from his ankle, he began to cut open boxes. There was a discussion about ice chips that sent Steve heading out of the room to get them.

Sensing someone was behind him, Bucky jerked on instinct. Occupational hazard. He found Steve’s girl startled behind him, a long strand of _his_ girl’s hair held in her fingers that she’d apparently plucked off him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes wide on him. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Bucky fought to keep from focusing on the single strand of hair she’d found.

“S’okay,” he said with a smile meant to disarm her. “I’m still a little jumpy sometimes.”

It was the right thing to say. She dropped the strand and her tense expression melted into a smile. “Understandable. Can I help with anything?”

Bucky shook his head, opening the last box. His hands shook the slightest bit.

He was feeling so thrown off by everything that the knife in his right hand accidentally nicked his left and the resulting spark reminded him that he hadn’t made the adjustment to his arm yet…

_Fuck. His kit..._

“Be right back,” Bucky muttered absently, making his way out of the medical room to the restroom. It was the only place where FRIDAY wasn’t really able to monitor without an override. Once he’d locked the door on the stall, he pulled out his phone, pulling up the security cameras at his house.

Bucky realized he’d left the kit on the couch. And the knife? Had he dropped it? He couldn’t see her lifting it off him.

The cameras came up and a quick sweep of her rooms confirmed his suspicions. His heart began hammering in his chest.

There was his girl kneeling and working away at the lock of the door to the rest of his house. And it looked like, from a distance anyway, that she knew what she was doing. His kit was on the floor by her knee and his missing knife was next to that.

_Oh, baby doll, you’re not broken after all, are you?_

This changed everything.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one, darker than AHIAR. It's a tale of unhealthy obsession and is intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.

You knew when you heard the tumbler click that you were almost there. Another small adjustment and…

It unlocked.

_Holy shit! I did it!_

Your hand shook as you turned the knob and the door opened.

Shaking yourself out of your daze, you realized that you might not have much time. Darting back into the bedroom, you pulled your one pair of shoes – flats – from under the bed and slid them on. You also grabbed the cape you’d worn at the airport because it was autumn and chilly. You needed all the advantages you could get to make this escape attempt.

You scrambled to tuck the tools back in the toolbox and scooped it up with the knife. You’d need those.

It took a minute to even talk yourself into walking through that door.

_It’s not too late. You can lock it again and close it. No harm no foul._

But James said he’d know the minute you tried to get out that door. Maybe he told you that to scare you. But from what you’d seen of the man so far, you doubted anything he said was bullshit.

That meant you’d better run because if he knew you’d picked the lock, you were _fucked_.

Scared and shaky but determined, you climbed the stairs.

The rest of the house looked pretty normal, clean and tidy. There were no photos of him or anyone around on tables or walls. Just a scattering of paintings and some black and white photographs on the walls.

_Focus. You have to get out of the house now._

You spotted the rear door at the kitchen first and dashed to it.

You stopped short in horror. The door had an electronic panel on it with an LCD display. Part of a security system.

_Fuck._

You couldn’t pick _that_.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

Taking a calming breath, you stopped. Home security system. Your father started using one after you left for college. He could see everything on an app on his phone, right?

_James is going to see you on his phone._

_THINK!_

Did James have a computer that he used? There was probably software installed on it to manage the security system. If you could access that, maybe you could disable it and get the hell out.

Scrambling around the house, you went from room to room until you reached his bedroom. The one he hadn’t been sleeping in because he’d been sleeping with _you_ each night. It was dark in there with blackout curtains and bedding that was dark forest green. The furniture was antique here too. The bedframe, a dresser, and an old-fashioned desk in the corner. On the desk was a desktop computer. A pretty expensive one from the looks of it.

_Fingers crossed._

Hoping to God he didn’t have a password on the computer, you dashed to it. Booting it up, you were going to see if there was anything you could do about the security system.

***

“Hey Barnes,” Clint greeted him as he reached the doors that led out of medical.

Bucky nodded, walking around the archer who was standing in front of the exit. When he tried to walk around the smaller man, Clint stepped in his path.

Bucky’s gaze met Clint’s. “What’s up?”

“Where you going?” Clint asked as if his actions were perfectly normal.

_Seriously?_

“I got an errand I need to run,” Bucky said casually as he could. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“You check in with Nat?”

Bucky was getting pissed. “I don’t _need_ to check in with Natalia. And I’m not bailing. I’ll be back.”

Clint’s expression softened. “Man, my job in all this is to keep everyone here until Baby Romanoff is born. She will hand me my ass if you leave here, okay? So, can you help a fellow out?”

“Barnes,” Nat called from behind him.

Bucky was losing his patience. Turning to face the mother-to-be, he waited calmly for her to speak.

“You’re not thinking about leaving, are you?” Nat’s expression was one of disapproval.

_Yeah, I was. Long story short I’ve got this sweet young thing locked in my basement. She’s trying to pick the lock and break out. Let me go deal with that and I’ll be back, okay?_

What he said was, “Yeah, I’ve got an errand to run.”

Nat moved closer, her expression taking on a more menacing tone. “Bette’s contractions are seven minutes apart. What could possibly be more important than that? A hot date?”

_A hot date I’m keeping captive. But yeah._

Nat raised an elegant eyebrow when he hesitated in answering.

“I won’t be long,” Bucky told her. “Promise.”

“Not a chance,” Nat told him. “So find a place to set up camp.”

_Are you kidding me?_

With that, Nat headed back for Bette’s room leaving him standing there perplexed.

_That’s it. It’s not like they can stop me._

He could get around Clint. Everyone would be “unhappy” with him. Steve would want to have a big talk. But fuck it, he had to get back. He didn’t really think his girl would be able to get out of the house if she _was_ able to pick the lock.

But he had to get to her. To shut this little rebellion down.

“Sorry, Clint,” he muttered, making a go of getting around Clint to make it out of medical and the compound. Clint held up his hands in surrender and stepped back.

_Okay, that was easy._

“Sergeant Barnes,” he heard Vision’s voice before he saw the Vision, today in his red android form. “I can’t permit you to leave the medical facility at this time.”

_Fucking Natalia._

Vision _could_ stop him.

Huffing in his irritation, Bucky raked a hand through his hair and marched back the way he came, heading back into the bathroom so he could check his home surveillance without Friday catching on. Once he’d closed the stall door, he pulled out his phone, accessed the cameras.

His girl had made it out of the basement.

Bucky’s heart flew as he scrutinized every camera angle, panicking because he didn’t see her. She wasn’t in the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, his bedroom…

_Wait._ Selecting his bedroom, he enlarged the image to get a closer look.

_There she is._ His little doll sat in front of his computer, no doubt trying to figure out how to get around the log in.

_Smart._

The login was a simple 4-digit pin. She had time on her hands and nothing to lose.

_I know what that’s like._

He needed to get back before she figured it out and made it further. He was her protection. If she made it out of the house, her life could be in danger.

Bucky wasn’t going to allow anything to happen to her this time. Even if it meant protecting her from herself.

He grinned as he watched her desperately concentrating on the screen in front of her. He had to say, he liked her better this way. Up until now, she’d been acquiescent, calm. Too calm, like her spirit had been shattered. And he already carried a fuck ton of guilt for her death, even though he would never have harmed her acting under his own will.

No, his baby doll had spirit. Bucky just hoped this surge of bravery didn’t get her killed before he could get to her.

He had to figure out how to get out of here to stop her from getting out of the house. If by some chance HYDRA was watching him…

***

[Steve’s girl]

“You need to do something about Barnes,” Natasha muttered to Steve as she walked back into Bette’s room.

Bette’s contractions were six minutes apart. She wasn’t in any discomfort though. She’d gotten an epidural and was happily texting on her phone. Her mother couldn’t get off work yet, so she was chatting with her continually, assuring her mother that she was okay.

And she really was.

Steve sat next to you by Bette’s bedside, glancing up at Nat in concern.

“Is Bucky okay?” he asked.

“He’s trying to sneak out,” Nat explained. “Said he had an errand to run.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t know what that would be.”

Nat shrugged, exchanging a look with Steve.

You knew they worried about Bucky’s mental state, but you didn’t think that was the case at all. You thought Bucky was just fine. You had a different theory.

“Is he seeing someone?” you asked randomly.

Steve’s gaze swung to you. “What?”

“Maybe he’s met someone,” you explained. “He seemed distracted earlier.”

“He gets that way when he’s struggling sometimes, Sweetheart,” Steve replied.

“Not bad distracted,” you told him. “Good distracted. It wasn’t like he was struggling with what’s _in_ his mind. It was more like his mind was… somewhere else. Maybe with _someone_ else. Just a feeling I have.”

“Really?” Nat smiled now. “Anything else playing into this theory?”

The spies you hung out with were eerily on point sometimes.

You nodded. “I pulled a lovely long hair from his shoulder earlier. Who ever gets close enough to _him_ for that to happen? The only ones who ever hug him are me and Steve. And it wasn’t from my head.”

Now Steve and Nat really did exchange a look. Now they were thinking about. Bucky was either home, at the compound, or on a mission. If he was talking to anyone on missions or the compound, Steve would know.

On the one hand, you were happy about the theory because you thought maybe finding someone would be very good for Bucky. He seemed so alone sometimes. You knew he was healing from his past. What better to help him than love?

On the other hand, now you felt bad. Steve was going to be watching him very closely now as a result.

Unless you could keep him distracted…

Now was normally when Steve would make a sweeping generalization like he would know if Bucky were seeing someone. But he couldn’t entirely. Because now Steve spent quite a bit of time with _you_.

Dropping the phone, Bette clutched her middle. “Oh, wow, I low key _felt_ that.”

Nat was out of the chair in a beat. “Is the epidural wearing off? Are you okay?”

“I think I’m fine,” Bette told her.

“We’re almost at five minutes,” Nat said with a smile, her gaze checking both Bette and the baby’s heartbeat every few seconds.

“I’ll get Helen in here to check the dilation,” Nat told her, heading for the door.

“And that’s my cue to step out,” Steve said with a nod to Bette. “Good luck… You can do this.”

Bette grinned up Steve. She had to appreciate the pep talk from Captain America himself. But he looked so uncomfortable at the moment. It was cute.

“You don’t have to be in a hurry,” Bette teased him. “You might have a kid one day. Surely you’re not planning on waiting out in the hall when _that_ happens.”

Steve grinned at that. Grinned at you.

“No, I can’t imagine I would then,” Steve told her. “But for now… Yeah.”

The minute he was out the door, you and Bette suppressed a laugh.

“Don’t encourage him,” you whispered with a grin.

“How do you _not_ want to have babies with _him_? Captain America’s babies? Seriously?” Bette insisted before frowning as she clutched her tightening baby bump. “I’m surprised you’re not engaged yet.”

You held that smile but swallowed hard, grateful for your friend’s progressing labor. It might keep you from having to take on that discussion.

“What’s that look?” Bette asked before doing her Lamaze breathing. “Everything with him is okay, right?”

You nodded. “Everything is great.”

It _was_. So far. You’d been able to enjoy a relationship with Steve on your own terms and that was important given how everything started. You lived together now and that was going very well.

But Steve wasn’t subtle at pushing his own agenda. At the moment, he wanted to meet your parents. Very much. When you’d tell him you’d arrange that some time, he’d mention wanting your parents to approve of him. How a ring would likely help his cause. A promise ring – oh, he’d picked up that term somewhere – and that’s all it would mean.

_Yeah._ You knew Steve better than that. You knew how he meant it and you knew how your parents would take it. The minute Steve got any ring on your finger, he was going to start planning a wedding.

_Not right now._

You were enjoying classes. All online at the moment, but you did get out for nights at Natasha’s with her and Bette. Claire often came over too when she wasn’t out with Michael who she’d moved in with. Claire seemed happy. Bette’s school was going so well.

Natasha? Her level of happy these days nearly brought all of you to tears. You were so excited for her. Maybe she couldn’t biologically have a child, but she was getting the closest thing to it. She’d be there when her daughter was born, be there from the moment that tiny miracle entered the world.

Bette and Nat had asked if you wanted to be there too. Both of them said you had to be there since you brought them together.

You wouldn’t miss it.

Which brought your mind back around to Steve. Steve who was jealous of anyone or anything that took your attention away from him. School he was okay with. A girls’ night here and there, fine.

Bette’s pregnancy? He was almost _too_ supportive of any time you spent with her and Nat.

You didn’t miss the sly way he’d ask how the pregnancy was progressing, then ask what you thought. You were mostly successful in avoiding _that_ conversation. The one time you’d slipped up and talked about what you’d do if you were pregnant, he had an opening to talk about rings again and…

You smiled. Were you _probably_ going to marry Steve one day? You thought so. Children you weren’t sure about right now and Steve said he wouldn’t push the issue.

“Look at that blush,” Nat pulled you out of your thoughts. “What are _you_ thinking about?”

“Having Steve’s babies?” Bette gasped out with a wink.

Bette was doing her breathing, her color robust as the labor progressed. Helen Cho walked into the room to check how Bette was doing.

You were turning every shade of red right now. Damn it.

“Close the door, please,” Helen bid you.

When you rose to do that, you saw Steve and Bucky right outside in the hallway. You knew it was too much to hope that Steve _didn’t_ hear your conversation.

The sly grin and wink Steve gave you as you closed the door confirmed that he did hear it.

***

Steve caught Bucky coming out of the bathroom, assessing his oldest friend. He could usually tell when Bucky was hiding something from him. Now that his girl had introduced the idea that Buck might be seeing someone, he had to wonder…

And if that really were the case, Steve would be so happy for him.

Still, he wouldn’t push. If something was going on, Buck would tell him when he was ready.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked him as he came to a stop before him.

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Natalia,” he said in an irritated tone. “I just bought a new refrigerator and it seems to have a leak in it. I just wanted to get home and make sure I didn’t have a fuck ton of water all over the place. Next thing I know, she’s got Clint and Vision corralling me back into medical and she’s telling me I need to set up camp until the baby gets here.”

See? Steve _knew_ there was a reasonable explanation. It made perfect sense.

“I’d be glad to come over and help you take a look at it when we get out of here,” Steve offered.

Bucky grinned. “You probably know less than I do about it, pal. But I appreciate the offer… I just don’t want to get home to a flooded floor, you know? Especially if we don’t get out of here until early tomorrow morning.”

Steve could definitely understand that.

“I wouldn’t be gone long,” Bucky told him.

Steve considered that for a minute.

“Hey, we can just tell Clint what’s going on and he and I can just act like you’re around. Sounds like Bette’s about ready to start delivering any time. Natasha might not even realize that you’re gone. She’ll be busy with the delivery.”

Bucky gave him a hopeful smile but then it faded. “You might get Clint on board but Vision?”

_Damn._ He had a point.

“Where’s Wanda?” Steve asked, pulling the folded schedule from the back pocket of his jeans. “She’s with Tony at Nat’s house working on the security system… Okay, I got this.”

Wanda owed him a favor. Steve called Wanda, explaining the situation and listening to her laugh. She agreed to call Vision and get him to come to her at Nat’s house. Wanda would tell Vision he’d need to check in with Steve before leaving.

Then they’d explain the situation to Clint and go from there.

Stepping behind the counter of the reception desk in medical, Steve got to a login screen on the medical file system.

“Friday?” he called while Bucky watched him, looking confused.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?” the AI responded.

“Override medical records for me please at this terminal,” Steve commanded.

“I need your override code,” the AI replied.

Steve sighed. “Capsicle.”

Bucky chuckled.

“Permission granted,” the AI announced, logging him in the system.

He knew Bucky was watching but he also knew that his best friend had his back. He’d understand why Steve needed to know when his girl got her contraception shot and when exactly it expired.

“You planning a family too, Stevie?” Bucky’s brows raised as he watched.

Steve winked at him. “Not getting any younger.”

Bucky’s grin widened. “Thought you wanted to get married first?”

“It would be nice,” Steve said as he made note of the date the shot was administered, what the medication was, and when it expired. And it expired in less than a month. “But doing things out of order wouldn’t be so bad.”

The look of surprise on Bucky’s face had him laughing.

“We talking about a shotgun wedding?” Bucky wanted to know.

Steve just winked at him as he closed out of his girl’s medical records and logged out.

“Captain Rogers.”

Steve looked across the counter to see Vision, studying him hard. “Captain Rogers, Wanda has contacted me. She and Mr. Stark require my assistance at Agent Romanoff’s home. Wanda suggested I check in with you since the baby is being delivered at the moment.”

Steve nodded at their friend. “Go help her. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

Vision smiled. “Thank you.”

And with that, the Vision was making his way out of medical.

Steve nodded towards Clint. “Let’s get you out of here, pal.”

Bucky dropped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you, man. I really appreciate this.”

Steve shook off the thanks.

What wouldn’t he do for Bucky?

***

You sank to the floor from the chair in front of James’ computer, tears running down your face. You hadn’t been able to get past the log in of his computer. You’d been at it for two hours. You’d tried everything, even logging in as another user. Nothing worked.

Then you’d gone and checked all the doors, all the windows, just to see if by some miracle one of them wasn’t hooked up to the security system. But they all were.

You even thought about opening one of the larger windows in the living room that you thought maybe you could bust through. Yeah, you’d probably trip an alarm but if you could get out before the police arrived?

But you talked yourself out of it. What if you couldn’t bust out? What if the police took you away from James? How would that be any better?

You remembered what he said. You were dead to the world. They could put you in jail for being the daughter of a HYDRA operative. Or worse, HYDRA could get a hold of you.

Either scenario was probably a worse situation than being here with James.

Probably.

You thought about going back down to your rooms and locking yourself in. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed you got out. Maybe you’d get away with it.

_Right._ You hadn’t been that lucky.

More tears flowed. You didn’t think he’d kill you again. But you honestly had no idea what he would do to you. And you were scared.

And you’d come to an important realization.

You may _never_ escape.

James could be back at any moment. Taking a deep gulp of air, you tried to pull yourself together.

That was when you spotted the short stack of files and books tucked under the desk in the floor. You were in a good deal of trouble anyway, so you quickly grabbed the black book on top, noting the colored tabs marking places in it. Quickly, you flipped through the pages, filled with neat hand-written notes, photographs glued to the pages.

Photographs of very familiar people.

_A picture of Captain America?_

Taking the book in the hopes that it might offer you something about your captor, you also grabbed the kit and the knife. You tried to put the chair back at the desk the way you found it. You hoped that he wouldn’t know somehow that you tried to access his computer about four hundred times.

You just knew James would know what you’d been up to. Your heart sank.

He could do anything to you. Hurt you. Mutilate you. Rape you.

_Kill you again._

You crept out of his bedroom and down the stairs to the rooms you should have stayed in. Your entire body shook, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

There was nothing for you to do but face the music and hope for the best.

And you hoped that he’d return soon so you could just get it over with.

***

Bucky checked his phone once he reached his bike in the parking lot. The first view was of her room and as he watched, she walked through the door and closed it behind her. Locking herself back in.

When he zoomed in, he saw her tear-streaked face and his heart clenched in his chest.

Oh, he knew she was terrified now.

Bucky understood why she had to try. It was human nature. But she needed to understand that he was protecting her. With the threat of HYDRA always looming, she needed to learn to trust him.

He just hoped that that trust would translate into something else in time.

She was the best part of his day, every day. Bucky loved waking up with her sprawled across him every morning. He loved the way her eyes lit up when he brought down dinner each night. Yeah, he knew he was a good cook, but it still made him happy to see it was appreciated. And the sweet taste of her that he was just getting to know?

He knew she was so much more than he deserved.

It didn’t make what he had to do any easier for him…

***

[Steve’s girl]

You brushed Bette’s hair off her sweaty forehead as she cried out and pushed her way through another contraction. She was doing so well. You held one of her hands, Natasha held the other. The obstetrician, Dr. Snow, was at the business end of the birth process with Helen at her side assisting.

Dr. Snow’s bright eyes met Bette’s.

“Give me one more big push,” the doctor told her through the surgical mask she wore. “We’re almost there.”

Bette’s labor had been blessedly short. Only about three hours so far and she was so strong. You’d lost feeling in your hand over an hour ago, but you couldn’t care about that. Your friend was giving a priceless gift to someone you both cared about. You’d do anything, endure anything, to help her make that happen.

When Bette’s cry turned into a scream, you and Natasha exchanged a concerned look. But in the next instant, a baby’s cry joined Bette’s. The baby girl made her presence known.

Natasha’s face crumpled into tears as her gaze flew to the doctor who was working beneath the blanket canopy covering Bette’s lower body.

“A little push,” Dr. Snow urged Bette.

The tension and color were fading from Bette’s face as she did just that, watching along with Natasha to see the new baby girl.

Dr. Snow held her up then, wrinkled and pink with no hair on her tiny head that you could see. Helen approached Nat who was furiously blinking back tears with a pair of surgical scissors.

“Would you like to cut the cord?” Helen asked.

Nat’s gave flew to Bette who smiled and nodded to her.

With shaking hands, the master spy took the scissors and cut the umbilical cord to free her new baby daughter who was still complaining with tiny cries.

“You okay?” you asked Bette, taking her hand in both of yours.

Bette nodded and you knew she was exhausted. “I’m good.”

Natasha came back to Bette’s side while the doctors cleaned up the child and checked her vital signs.

“Bette, how are you doing?” Natasha asked her with watery eyes.

“I’m good,” Bette told her. “Honest… Just tired.”

Nat brushed a hand over Bette’s sweat-soaked hair. “I’m going to take care of you. Whatever you need... I promise.”

Bette nodded. She knew that.

“She’s 21 inches long,” Helen called. “Weighs six pounds, ten ounces. Her vitals are strong.”

All three of you watched as Helen approached you with the tiny crying girl, wrapped in a soft pink blanket that was a shade lighter than her newborn flushed skin.

Nat’s gaze flew to Bette, her tears flowing freely. “Bette, you should…”

Your heart broke a little. You knew Nat was afraid. What if Bette changed her mind? What if she wanted to keep her baby once she saw her?

Bette shook her head.

“Say hello… to _your_ daughter,” Bette urged her with a gentle smile.

Nat looked to you and you nodded, crying with her, feeling so privileged to be here for this beautiful moment. Nat leaned down to kiss Bette’s forehead before carefully approaching Helen, holding out her arms to accept the baby.

They worked carefully to get the baby girl situated in Natasha’s arms. And then Nat was holding her baby, a look of pure love and awe shining from the spy’s beautiful eyes.

After a moment, the baby stopped crying, gazing up at her mother with the same fascination. Her tiny eyes were slit open, studying Nat as she gently lowered her head to press a kiss to the baby’s tiny forehead.

“Delilah,” Nat whispered. “You’re… the most beautiful… thing I’ve ever seen.”

You hugged Bette tightly as you watched mother and daughter together. Both of you were so happy for Natasha, watching her bond with her baby.

After a few moments, Dr. Snow announced that they needed to take Delilah for her first bath, and they needed to take care of Bette. You hugged Bette tightly. Helen took the baby and you followed Nat out into the hallway where most of the crew waited with smiles on their faces.

Nat tore off the mask and in a tearful voice said, “She’s here and she’s perfect.”

Clint got to her first, taking his sobbing friend into his arms and congratulating her with gentle whispers. Steve wrapped his arms around both of them, pressing a kiss into Nat’s hair. And you watched, enjoying the moment. Nat exchanged hugs with Sam, Pepper, Bruce, and Rhodey. The others would be by throughout the next day or so.

Steve smiled at you as you stood there with tears streaming down your face. When he took you into his arms, you more than welcome his warmth and strength.

“How’s Bette?” he whispered by your ear.

“She just fine,” you answered. “Bette was a real champ.”

Pulling back, Steve took your face gently into his hands. “I can’t thank you enough, you and Bette, for doing this for Nat. This means everything to her… I’m so proud of you, Sweetheart.”

You pushed forward to rest your head against Steve’s chest, holding him tightly to you. “I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a dark one, darker than AHIAR. It's a tale of unhealthy obsession and is intended for entertainment only. The relationship portrayed here is not healthy and features non-consensual sexual situations. If this type of subject matter is offensive to you, please don't read it. You have been warned.
> 
> I'll see you in the comments tomorrow ;)

Your heart thundered in your chest when you heard his footsteps on the stairs.

You’d only just returned to your rooms and locked yourself in. That was defeating enough. You sent up every prayer you knew that he wouldn’t know what you’d been up to.

You also knew that was probably too much to hope for.

You were fighting back tears of frustration and your entire body shook. Whether it was from fear or anger, you shook like a leaf. No way James was going to miss that.

You’d hidden the book you found upstairs under the bedside table, stashed your shoes and cape. The knife was back on the bed where you found it and the kit next to you on the couch where he left it. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest with your arms wrapped around them. You hoped it would minimize the trembling. You sat like that often anyway. Turning on the TV, you decided to try to act like everything was normal.

Just maybe he wouldn’t know.

When the door unlocked and James walked in, the quick flash of those stormy eyes you got before he turned to lock the door behind him made your heart sink.

_He knew._

You felt his gaze on you as you did your best to act like you were watching the documentary on the War of 1812. When your gaze finally swung to him, you saw him lift the remote from the coffee table and turn the TV off.

His deep sigh sounded so loud in the quiet of the room.

“Look at me,” his voice was calm and for some reason, that was scarier than if he had yelled at you.

You did, struggling to hold his gaze. Those steely blue eyes alone flashed in anger. The rest of him was still, standing across the coffee table from you and making you feel small.

“You’ve got one shot to tell me the truth, doll,” the warning in his tone was clear. “You lie to me and this is going to be a whole lot worse.”

The first tear slid down your face on that note. It was in your best interest to do exactly what he said.

But he wasn’t demanding answers or in your face. He just stood patiently waiting. The thought of starting this conversation was terrifying. Your heart was flying, your breath was coming fast. Best to get it over with.

Dropping your gaze, you said simply, “I’m sorry.”

“What exactly are you sorry for, doll?” James said quietly.

Too quietly. _This is going to be bad._

You chose your words carefully, deciding brevity was safer. “I’m sorry… that I… left this… room.”

Glancing back at James, you saw a little color bloom in his face.

“Well, that was very diplomatically put,” James said with a smirk. “You left this room? But it was a bit more than that, wasn’t it?”

Oh, it was.

His gaze darted to the kit on the couch.

“That what you used?” he asked, pointing to it with his flesh hand.

“Yes.”

“Do any damage to those tools?” James asked. “I need those for repairs to my arm. The one I have now is a lot nicer and more advanced than the one I had before.”

You hadn’t even stopped to consider what shape the tools you used were in.

“Open the kit and set it on the table in front of you,” James ordered, his tone still deceptively calm.

Not wanting to make him angrier, you scrambled to grab the kit and carefully open it. It might have been comical how badly your hands shook in any other situation.

You visually scrutinized the set of small black, silver and gold instruments. You’d only used a couple of the small silver tools and they didn’t _look_ damaged.

James leaned over to examine them himself, his hair falling around his face while you tried to shrink back into the couch.

“You’re lucky,” he told you.

You sure as hell didn’t _feel_ lucky.

“I don’t see any damage.” James straightened again, that cold gaze back on you. “But they weren’t yours to use, were they?”

Again, you dropped your gaze. “No… I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, doll. But we have some other things to cover. Where’s my knife?”

_Watch what you say…_

“It’s back… on the bed… where I found it,” you told the truth. You knew it had to have slid out of his pocket or a holder when he came down this morning to comfort you after your nightmare.

Didn’t that make you feel like even more of a dumbass right now?

“Go get it for me,” he instructed you.

And you jumped up to do just that. You darted into the bedroom, grabbed up the knife from the bed and placed it next to the kit on the table. When he stared at it, you flipped it to show him the other side. You hadn’t used _that_ at all.

One corner of his mouth twitched.

“You found it on your bed?” he asked.

“I didn’t… I wouldn’t have… taken it from you,” you said lamely. It was true. “You’d know.”

“Damn right I would… Where’d you learn to pick locks?”

“Summer camp,” was all you said.

“What was that?”

“I learned to pick locks at summer camp,” you said quietly.

“Summer camp, huh? Were you sneaking out to meet a boy?”

Heat flooded your face. “No.”

“Why did you pick my lock?” James’s gaze was unwavering. “I know you made it out.”

You nodded. “I just wanted to see… the rest… of the house.”

“And that’s all?” he asked coolly. “So far, you took my kit, you took my knife. You completely disregarded my warning to you that I’d know the minute you tried to get out that door without my permission. What else?”

Several smart-ass remarks sprang into your mind and you pushed each one down. You needed to live through this. You didn’t know what he was going to do.

“I tried to login… on your computer,” you admitted.

“Why?”

Truth was best. Who were you going to contact? You were “dead.”

“To see if I could… turn off the alarm system,” you said slowly.

“Thought you just wanted to see the rest of my house,” he pointed out.

_Fuck._

“So you _were_ trying to find a way out?” James asked. “To escape?”

Defeated, you nodded.

“What was your plan if you’d made it?” James went on, his expression still blank and unreadable.

You shook your head, letting the tears come.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I was… pretty sure that I… wasn’t going to make it out so…”

“And you didn’t,” James said coldly. “So what exactly are you sorry for, doll?”

Your chest was starting to hurt from the anxiety of the conversation.

“I took your kit and your knife,” you began.

“Without my permission,” James added.

You nodded. “I picked the lock… of this room and went upstairs.”

“Into my _house_ without permission.”

Nodding again, you went on.

“I tried to log in to your computer… without your permission,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

James blew out an exhale. “And you think that’s all you’ve done.”

_Oh, God._

“I… didn’t listen… to what you said,” you tried to make it better.

“No, you didn’t,” he replied. “The worst thing you did? You put yourself in danger. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that HYDRA is keeping an eye on me given my history with them… Do you have any idea of what they’ll do to you if they find out you’re alive? If they got a hold of you?”

“Kill me again?” you asked pitifully.

James paused at that, remorse a flash that was there and gone in an instant.

“They’d do a lot fucking worse than what I’m going to do,” he told you calmly. “Stand up. Strip.”

Was he serious?

Oh, but he was. On shaky legs, you rose from the couch, watching him as he walked around to your side of the coffee table and took a seat on the other end, watching you pull off the simple blue sweater you wore today. You slowly took down your jeans, pulled off your socks. Humiliation had your entire body trembling and flushed.

When you stopped, hoping he was good leaving you in your bra and panties, he tipped his head at you with his eyes on your bra. You took it off too along with your panties, using your hands to cover your breasts and mound.

“No need for that. I’ve seen everything.” James motioned you over. “Come here.”

What was he going to do?

When you moved within his reach, he yanked you down hard until you were face down across his lap and tentatively balanced. The cold metal of his hand pressed hard between your shoulder blades, holding you down. His flesh hand gently caressed your bare ass cheeks.

You realized then just what he was going to do.

“You’re going to count each one out for me,” James told, “nice and loud. You understand?”

It didn’t appear he was going to kill you. You nodded and held still even though you felt like you could fall any minute.

“Yes.”

The first slap stung like fire and had you crying out in surprise. You were grateful he wasn’t using the metal hand.

“One,” you croaked.

The blows kept coming, harder and faster, and you counted each one out loud while trying to keep from screaming because the sting and the pain of each strike were substantial. Tears ran down your face, your nose ran. You were struggling to breathe as they kept coming.

“Ten,” you continued with sobs in your voice.

Your mind spun. As you shook, tried to focus on counting. Trying to breathe…

James wasn’t going easy on you and you were gasping for air with each slap.

“Twenty-five,” you said through your tears.

Thankfully, he stopped there. You wriggled in pain on his lap, knowing you’d be feeling the spanking you just endured for several days. You’d be feeling it every time you _moved_.

Carefully, he eased you up so you were sitting on one of his thighs. Your ass hurt. Not to mention that you were nude, trembling, and in tears.

Part of you was indignant that he made you strip down and just flat out spanked you as he had. You’d never been treated like that by anyone.

Another part of you was horrified at your own behavior. You honestly wanted the floor to open and swallow you whole in that moment. James was right. You’d taken his stuff, picked the lock, wandered around in his house without him knowing it. Tried to login on his computer.

Yeah, you hadn’t asked for him to, but he’d brought you here and kept you safe in his home. You were warm and well fed. You weren’t free but under the circumstances, and they were extraordinary circumstances considering you returned from the dead. But you could be worse off.

Sure, James intended to take advantage of you just like Leo had…

_But you liked what James did to you last night._

That thought brought on a fresh wave of shame. You lowered your head, hoping that you’d weathered the worst of it.

You were wrong.

Strong fingers grabbed your chin and tipped your head up. He made you look at him.

“You’re mine now.” Those incredible eyes locked with yours and he held onto your chin. “Mine to take care of, to protect… It’s time you learned what that means.”

The world spun for you when he threw you over a broad soldier and marched into the bedroom, unceremoniously dumping you on the bed. You hissed as your backside made contact with the soft bedding.

James climbed onto the bed after you, looking determined. You were too scared to even try to fight him off. He dragged you up to the headboard, you cried out at the friction against your ass. As you watched, James reached into his pocket and pulled out a gleaming pair of handcuffs.

“No!” You were panicking now. “Please… don’t do this…”

He secured the cuff around your left wrist first, wrapping it around one of the slim bars at the headboard before capturing your other wrist and securing it. You furiously yanked to try and pull your hands out of the cuffs, to pull your hands away from the headboard. For a moment, he just silently watched you.

Your gaze met his steely one and you were scared.

“Please… don’t hurt me…” you begged. “I’m sorry… I won’t—”

Some emotion flashed in his cool blue eyes before he pulled off his shirt, slowly began removing his jeans. You swallowed hard as you watched, your entire form shaking beneath that cool gaze.

James had stripped down and even scared as you were, you had to admit he was beautiful. Crawling up your body, he draped himself over you, planting his elbows on either side of your ribs. His face was inches away from yours and he was gazing into your eyes.

“Shhh,” he soothed you, tracing his own fingers gently down your face, brushing away your tears.

James lowered his head, his mouth claiming yours in a demanding kiss, hard and possessive. Just when you felt like you couldn’t breathe, his mouth burned a path across your jaw to the tender spaces of your neck. His mouth pressed the lightest kisses up and down the column of your throat, seeking out the places that made you tremble and finding each one.

More of his weight dropped on you, his cock a hot brand against your thighs. Despite the way you still trembled beneath him and your heart slammed in his chest, your thighs shifted, trying to press against him. And he was solid, hard muscle from head to toe. All but those sinful lips, so soft, so tortuous as they roamed to your collarbone, down your chest.

When his lips closed around a tight nipple, he hummed around it. His tongue traced around the hard, little center making your squirm even more beneath him. His lips and tongue played with you until you were barely aware that you were rolling your hips under him, rubbing yourself against his ribs, his abs. His hands slid over your chest, one warm and rough, one cold and smooth as he played with your breasts. He took his time, taking you apart slowly.

When those hands slid down your ribs, he moved down. His lips scorched their way down your stomach, down to your belly. James gazed up, catching your gaze and smirking.

You didn’t understand. Why was he doing this? Being so careful with you? So tender?

Wrapping those powerful arms around your thighs, he spread you wide and wasted no time getting his mouth on you where you craved it most.

As you were last night, you were lost to the pleasure he was drawing from you with teasing touches of his tongue whether he used the flat of it to tease your clit or he used it to dive into you over and over. He groaned, a sinful sound muffled against your wet flush and it had you craving release in the worst way.

You thought this was supposed to be a punishment? But it felt so _wonderful…_

“Beautiful,” he whispered before diving back in.

After several moments you were rolling your hips, wanting more, pushing yourself closer. Wanting more, _needing_ more. James adjusted, his metal hand sliding up onto your tummy and holding your hips still. You bit your lip to keep from screaming as you felt your release rising, hard and fast. His mouth closed around your throbbing clit, lashing it with his tongue until you were hanging onto the bars of the headboard and bracing for what was going to be a powerful orgasm. Your back arched, your entire body taught and waiting.

Just as you were on the precipice, James stopped. Everything. His mouth pulled away, his grip on your tummy, your thigh eased.

“So beautiful like this,” he whispered. “My little baby doll…”

James chained kisses over the top of your mound, down the inside of your thigh. Those steely eyes shined at you dangerously while you trembled, your body not getting what it needed to find release. When you tried to lift your hips, the hard metal of his left hand pressed a little more firmly. It didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t move.

You struggled to catch your breath, watching as he kept his eyes on you, pressing innocent kisses into your thighs. When you managed to slow your breathing down, your body stopped shaking, you waited to see what James would do.

The minute you thought he might be done with you, he pushed your thighs a little farther apart and doubled his efforts.

It didn’t take as long then to be swept away again on that wave, to be on the edge of a release like nothing you’d ever felt before. The tip of his tongue made a circuit from teasing your clit to dipping into your entrance until you thought your sanity would shred. He kept his touch light, delicate. You were losing your mind above him, white knuckles wrapped around the bars of the headboard tight.

Your cries filled the room around you. You weren’t saying words. Maybe you were. You didn’t know what you were saying. You thought you were begging. Pleading. For what? You weren’t sure. Maybe you were begging him to make you come? Maybe you were begging him to stop.

All you knew as you felt his busy tongue in your heated, wet folds is that you were going to come. So hard. You hoped you survived it. You reached the edge…

Again, he stopped.

Just. Completely. Stopped.

Now you felt like you’d been running, your lungs ached to pull in air. But the ache wasn’t nearly as bad as that between your thighs. Your channel was clenching around nothing, clenching in desperation. Your nipples were tight, your body was writhing and twisting on the bed as much as you could. James still wouldn’t permit your hips to move. He just watched you with your slick on his lips and a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

James just waited until your breathing calmed, waiting until you weren’t writhing as much as you were trembling.

When he slid a finger into your channel, you clenched desperately around it. You needed something. You needed _him_. That clever finger searched your walls and you knew what he was looking for, afraid he’d easily find it as he did last night.

Curling that finger, he found your spot with deadly accuracy. Your head tossed on the pillow mindlessly and you were rambling again, begging.

“Please… James…” you panted, trying in vain to push yourself at him, “I need… Oh, please…”

For that, he slid a second finger inside you, and you clenched around him, relishing the feeling of his fingers exploring you. Again, he curled those fingers against you.

“Please, please, please…” you chanted. You needed to come _so bad_.

Finally, you were back on the edge, your entire body bracing for orgasm…

As you watched in horror, James pulled his hand free of you and he sat up then, sucking you off his fingers as he sat between your thighs. He just wasn’t close enough for you to wrap your thighs around him to gain any sort of friction. And you knew you weren’t strong enough to pull him down to you.

“James?” you sounded pitiful to yourself. “Please… I’m sorry…”

The grin he turned on you was pure sin. “I know you are.”

Now that his attention was back on you, he climbed back over you. You watched in fear, in lust. Your entire body hummed beneath his as he lowered himself over you. When you felt his heavy thighs push your own wider to make room for himself, your heart began to fly in something like hope.

You’d almost forgotten what you’d done wrong, what you were sorry for. Your body was twisting beneath him, rubbing against him, seeking friction, seeking anything to free you from the ecstasy that gripped you like a fever and shook you until you could think of nothing else.

James hummed, that grin still in place as he dropped wet kisses over your face, your chest.

“I love this,” he told you, making you gasp as his flesh hand slid down your body and his fingers sank into your folds. “You’re aching, aren’t you? So wet for me… So desperate…”

You nodded emphatically, pushing yourself into his hand.

“You want me?” James asked, his own breath coming fast, pelting your face.

“Please,” you begged. “Please… I’ll do anything…”

He claimed your mouth in a heated kiss.

When he pulled back to gaze down at you, his dark hair falling around his face. “Anything, huh?”

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. Not easy to do with his teasing fingers having a go at your clit, darting into your aching entrance.

“You _need_ me?”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. Your body ached. Your ass already ached but the desire hounding you kept you from noticing it as much just now.

“Please, James,” you begged shamelessly. “I need…”

“I know what you need,” he told you, lining himself up with your entrance.

Oh, you knew first-hand how big he was but as he began to sink into you, to stretch your passage, you sucked in your breath. James was _huge._ His mouth teased your nipples idly and his fingers stroked your clit in gentle strokes. He pushed deeper and deeper into you until you were gasping, your body struggling to make room.

When James bottomed out, he rose over you again. His flesh hand smoothed over your hair, your face. You could smell your own intimate scent on him.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, the effort of holding himself still inside you making his voice strained.

Nodding, you stretched up trying to kiss him now. “Please…”

James began to move inside you, slow easy strokes at first which you appreciated. You’d never been with someone of his size and the feeling of fullness was amazing with an edge of pain. That he ground you into the mattress reignited the fire in your ass slightly, but the pain blended with pleasure to send you back to the edge, seeking the release he kept denying you.

And as he had before when you were just about to come, he stopped.

Over and over he kept you on the edge, stopping everything when you were about to come until tears slid down your cheeks as you chanted, you begged.

“I can’t…” you finally said when he stopped the… you didn’t know how many times he’d stopped before you could find release. How the fuck was _he_ holding out? “Please stop… I can’t take… please…”

Slowly moving within you, James made you look at him, holding your chin with fingers that smelled like your arousal.

“Who do you belong to?” he whispered against your lips.

“You,” you finally managed. “I’m… yours.”

Dropping his head, he teased the space just under your ear that made your head spin.

“Where do you belong?” his voice was low, but you heard him.

Your thighs were locked around his hips, trying to hold him to you, wanting him to go harder.

“Where?” he prompted you.

“Wherever… you…” talking wasn’t easy,” wherever you want me…”

Humming, he smiled against your neck. “Good answer, doll… Are you really sorry for trying to run from me?”

You were pushing your hips up, trying to take more of him. “Sorry… So sorry.”

His lips and tongue teased your ear as his hips drove him on within you.

“Why should I let you come?” he whispered.

You were losing your mind. You were going to either come or pass out. Maybe both…

“Please…” you begged mindlessly, “Please… let me…”

Moving over you again, his hands slid up your arms, his fingers prying yours off the bars. He laced his fingers with yours.

Then James began pounding into you, his thrusts were so powerful it took your breath away. Your ass felt raw but the center of you was painfully tight, throbbing and waiting. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding on as he devastated you, taking you back up to heights you weren’t sure now you’d survive.

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Come all over me.”

When release crashed over you finally, you screamed as he held you down, drowned you in it. Wave after wave of pleasure broke over you as his thrusts gained strength. Finally, he growled out his release above you, his cock twitching inside you as the edges of your vision started fading to black.

You heard him whisper your name, felt the pads of his fingers brush over your forehead. It seemed far away. Just like the clinking sound of metal sounded far away. You felt him lift your arms, gently touching your wrists that felt sore. Not as bad as your ass but sore.

Then you were falling? _Falling._ Strong arms held you, eased you onto your stomach. You were still in bed. Still okay.

You drifted off into the darkness, snuggling into the bedding. You woke up later, you didn’t know how much later. You felt something cool, soothing. You felt the rough texture of his fingers against the sore flesh of your ass, rubbing something into your skin.

“That feel better, baby doll?” he whispered.

You muttered something as an answer, you couldn’t say what you said or if you said anything. You just knew you were grateful when warm covers dropped over you. Someone tucked you in, made you very comfortable.

“Sleep,” he whispered by your ear, pressing a kiss into your hair.

And you did.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Until the end of October, I'm going to be inconsistent. But I'll still be posting. Thank you for your patience. ♥

You were warm, your body felt heavy. Gentle fingers sifted through your hair, warm lips pressed against the bare skin of your shoulder. His solid, form behind you made you feel safe.

Then your brain caught up.

_James. Last night…_

“I know you’re awake,” he whispered.

“Can…” Shit, you weren’t supposed to speak unless he asked a question.

“What?” Another kiss pressed to the tender point where your shoulder and neck met. “Go ahead.”

“Can you… read my mind… or something like that?” your own voice was raspy and that had your face heating up as you remembered why.

His chuckle was a warm sound, his chest shook against your back. “I don’t really need to, doll. You’re pretty easy to read.”

“Oh.”

A powerful arm wrapped around you, his heavily muscled forearm shown off because the red sleeve of his shirt was pushed up to his elbow. He’d gotten up, gotten dressed.

You were naked and tired. You stretched and he allowed it. You were sore in places you didn’t think you could be sore in. Your ass especially.

“How do you feel, beautiful?” he asked gently.

_Beautiful, huh?_

You’d been in trouble for trying to escape. You’d picked the lock to the door of your rooms and gotten out into the rest of his house. Then he’d spanked you – _spanked you_ – and then the sex…

You’d had sex before. You weren’t a virgin.

But what he’d done to you last night? That was _way_ beyond your apparently limited experience.

Still, he seemed very affectionate with you now. _Happy._ Guess all men had that in common after getting what they wanted. Still, as sore as you were going to be, it was in your best interest to keep him that way.

“Hey?” James shifted behind you, pressing you onto your back with him looming over you. You hadn’t answered him. His expression had an edge of concern to it. “Are you okay?”

You schooled your features into what you hoped was a soft smile. “I’m okay… I’m sore... A little…”

James nodded, dressed in a red Henley and jeans. His long hair was still wet from his shower and combed back from his face.

He _was_ incredibly handsome.

_Stop that. Focus. You have to be careful with him._

He still took you against your will. You didn’t consent to that.

The fingers of his flesh hand brushed the hair back from your forehead as his eyes searched yours.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he began, “but I hope in time you realize why I had to do that.”

_See?_ He _had_ to do that?

“It would be so easy for them to figure out you’re here,” he explained patiently. “I can’t take any chances with you. They used me to hurt you before. _This time_ I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Used him to hurt you? What did he get for killing you? Money? A promotion? You wanted to ask but you were afraid. The way he said that made it seem like he wasn’t a participant when he very much was. He’d choked the life from you. You remembered.

You swallowed hard, realization hitting you hard. He believed that you were still in danger from HYDRA. As long as he believed you were in mortal danger from HYDRA, he’d never let you go.

And you had to question how stable James was.

“And in exchange for my protection…” you said slowly “I need to…”

You didn’t finish that sentence. You didn’t need to. Wasn’t it implied from the beginning that he’d be expecting sex from you?

The hurt you thought flashed in his gaze caught you off guard.

“It’s not like that, doll,” James said, his gaze on your collarbone now as his fingers traced it. “I don’t want you to see me as your...”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. You cried so much since you’d been brought back.

“I’m not free,” you said as pitifully as you could, knowing you risked pissing him off, but you had to say it.

“Because of them,” his gaze swung back up to meet yours, “you may never be free. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy… in time…”

_With me._

He didn’t say it but the emotion in those blue, blue eyes made your heart squeeze in your chest. _What is this?_ A lot of the time, James just didn’t make sense. He’d taken you but took care of you. He was harsh, terrifying at times, but gentle at others.

He was a deadly fucking former HYDRA assassin. But something just didn’t feel right.

You’d _known_ the sex would be expected. But he hadn’t hurt you. Well, yeah, the spanking had hurt. But the sex hadn’t been painful just very intense. You’d never orgasmed that hard in your life. What could he do when he wasn’t trying to punish you?

What could _you_ do?

If you had escaped, where would you go? SHIELD lost your father. You had nothing to offer them and knew nothing about what HYDRA wanted from him. If HYDRA was watching closely, James was right. It would only be a matter of time before they ended you again.

James could protect you. No one knew you were here or alive except him.

Your choices were run and be killed by HYDRA or stay and be James’ captive.

You needed to keep him happy.

You could be back on the streets of Berlin, waiting until HYDRA did discover you.

_Keep him happy. You can do this._

Lifting a hand, you only meant to smooth a lock of his hair back behind his ear. James caught your hand, making your heart slam in fear. Maybe he didn’t want you to touch him.

But then he took your hand and pressed your palm against his cheek, holding your hand there gently. After a moment, he dropped his hand. When your hand moved of your own volition, stroking his cheek and jaw, his eyes slid closed like your touch was something he dearly wanted.

Your heart melted a little at that while your brain scrambled.

Would you _ever_ understand this man?

After a moment, his eyes opened and again he gently grasped your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“How does a bath sound?” he asked with a smile – a gentle smile that made him look so different, less severe. He looked younger.

You nodded. That sounded very good.

“Please,” you said simply.

James hummed, easing himself up on the bed. “Stay here,” he told you. “I’ll get it ready.”

As big as he was, it amazed you how quickly and quietly he could move. You must have dozed because it seemed like only a beat later that he was back and gently pressing kisses to your face to wake you up. Once your eyes were open, he pulled back the covers and scooped you up into his arms while you protested the chill.

It wasn’t long-lived because you were lowered into a warm bath, fluffy bubbles floating along the top. The scent of roses filled your head as you relaxed into the water.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a knee next to the tub and looking you over. James was very attentive today.

“Nothing,” you assured him. “This is… nice… I just… used to use lavender.”

James' gaze dropped. He passed you a washcloth before heading for the door. “I’ll go make us some breakfast,” he told you, seeming lost in his thoughts.

Blowing out an exhale, you enjoyed the bath and washed the night before off. You washed your hair, feeling tired and heavy.

As fatigued as you were, James’ behavior was still preying on your mind.

If he was no longer with HYDRA, why did he come find you? _How did he know you were alive?_ Did he feel guilty? Bringing someone to live with you and concealing that fact couldn’t be easy. Not that you expected James had many friends. You doubted it. Still, it wasn’t a small effort. So why?

Could he use you against HYDRA? You doubted it. Your father had knowledge SHIELD wanted. You didn’t. You had just been collateral damage as Uncle – _no, Leo_ – had explained to you.

No, your only value was your body apparently.

Still, if sex was all he wanted, he could take that and be rid of you before too long. He could just hold you down and use you. He didn’t have to feed you, care for you. So far anything sexual had been careful, intimate…

James was your captor, your rapist.

Something wasn’t right. He didn’t act like someone using a woman’s body for his own gratification.

James treated you like… a lover.

_How can that be? He’s a terrorist._

_I’m so confused._

As you sat in the perfumed bath, letting the warm water ease your aching muscles, you wondered exactly who the man who held you captive really was.

Well, when he left you after breakfast as he normally did, you’d see if the book you pilfered from upstairs offered any clues.

***

Bucky had taken breakfast down for him and his girl, his mind a wild whirl of thoughts.

After setting the tray on the coffee table, he went to make sure she was okay. He looked into the bathroom just in time watch her pulling jeans carefully over that beautiful ass. The shape of her was clear through sheer pink panties.

Bucky tried to push the guilt down. He’d had no choice but to punish her. He had to ensure that she didn’t try to escape again. He needed her to understand the seriousness of her situation.

And if she’d managed to get out and he’d been away on a mission? He wouldn’t allow himself to explore those possibilities in his head. Best case scenario, she got out and got to the police or Friday alerted them of the incident. Then she’d be given to the Avengers and he had some explaining to do.

Worst case scenario, HYDRA would learn of her re-entrance into the world and finish her again.

Bucky didn’t intend to lose her. He was half gone for her as it was.

“James?”

He’d gotten so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t immediately notice she stood staring back at him now, her feet bare on the floor and the hoodie in her hands held to her breasts. She was shaking and it had guilt biting him now. He didn’t know if it was from his rough treatment last night or she was cold.

It didn’t matter. He was fighting with everything in him not to pick her up and take her back to bed to feed her, hold her while she slept. But that was a terrible idea. Then he’d want other things and she needed to recover right now.

Bucky was coming to realize that while he wanted all the sweet romanticism Steve and his girl had, in bed he wanted a lot more than sweet and romantic. Taking her, making her his as he had last night had been everything. He didn’t need pain or blood. But his desires ran darker now. Bucky loved the taste of her, the way it felt to be inside her. The more he had, the more he wanted.

Bucky caught himself grinning at her like a moon-eyed sap. Trying to school his features into something more serious, he approached her. Gently taking the hoodie from her, he held it up to help put it on her. Immediately her hands rose to hide her breasts from him, and his cock twitched with no small amount of interest to see the dark mark he’d left on one, peeking out from behind her small hand.

“My bra?” she asked timidly.

“You don’t need it today,” he told her calmly as he could. “You need to rest.”

Pulling the hoodie over her head, he got it situated and pulled her out into the living room to eat.

Probably wasn’t the best idea to have made the breakfast he had for her. Something more conservative would have been a better idea considering he wanted her to feel chastised. A couple of slices of simple toast with some juice.

No, he’d pulled out all the stops. Pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs because she liked those best, fresh fruit. All the trimmings.

Bucky told himself it was a compromise between a conservative meal and a breakfast banquet but failed at hitting that note. Last night had been everything he’d wanted apart from some freely offered affection from her. Fuck him if he wanted to celebrate that. He wanted to treat her to a nice breakfast. He _wanted_ to spoil her.

It didn’t take a lot to figure out his girl was pretty limited in her sexual experience. Actually, he preferred that. And he was hoping that the way she’d begged him, pleaded with him for her pleasure that she’d be an apt pupil. He didn’t think he could ever get tired of her pleas, the chorus of desperate sounds she’d made for him.

That excitement she tried to hide from him whenever he brought down a meal that interested her was there now but muted. She really was tired, and he was the reason why. The adrenaline from her little adventure alone would have totaled her. Add to that what he’d done with her and yeah…

Bucky served her first before indulging in a larger portion for himself. He was starving. Best he could remember, good sex always did that for him.

While he watched, she reached for the TV remote, turning on the history channel she always seemed to favor.

When an old clip of Dum-Dum Dugan filled the screen, Bucky panicked to see his fellow Howling Commando. Grabbing the remote from her, he immediately started flipping through channels to find the news. He wasn’t ready to go into his past with her. Maybe he never would. He’d be lucky if she ever felt anything for him considering that he was the one who’d killed her. She sure as shit didn’t need to know _everything_ he’d done in his painfully long life. She’d never understand.

Bucky pretended to watch the news as he always did. Today it was pretty hard to maintain the ruse with her picking at her plate and glancing at him in turns. Why was she looking at him that way? At first, his heart had hummed, hope that maybe she was starting to feel something…

But more and more he realized that her expression was more curiosity. What was she thinking?

He had to head to the hospital and see Nat and the new baby. Steve and his girl would be there so the situation would be tolerable. Then he needed to come back and get the new refrigerator installed down here in her rooms. They’d be putting him back on missions any time and he had to make sure that she’d be able to feed herself while he was away.

See? His story to Steve hadn’t been a complete lie.

When they’d finished breakfast and he had everything loaded onto the tray, he turned back to his girl.

“Why don’t you nap today?” he said gently. “You could stretch out here on the couch.”

Her gaze met his and she nodded. While she did look tired, he felt something stirring beneath the surface. Some restlessness in her.

_What was this?_

Surely to God she didn’t have another escape plan in her after yesterday?

When she didn’t say anything, his mouth got ahead of his brain.

“I’ll be back a little late for lunch,” he explained. “Can I get you anything?”

Immediately, he had her complete attention. The hope in her eyes had his heart squeezing in his chest.

“Really?” she asked. “There is one thing I’d love to have…”

Yeah, he’d offered even though he shouldn’t have on the heels of yesterday. But he could have smacked himself for not thinking of making that offer, especially with the way her face lit up.

“And what’s that?” Bucky asked her, trying to keep the desperate curiosity from his face.

“Just… a small potted plant?” Her hands twisted in her lap and her gaze dropped. “Something I could, you know, take care of.”

_You can take care of me, doll._

Bucky considered that for a moment, a memory of the small plants his mother kept in the windowsill of the kitchen when he was a kid flashing in his mind.

Slowly, he nodded. He liked the idea. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

Those gentle hands ceased their movement and her gaze flew up to his. Her eyes widened and she smiled at him. _God, she’s beautiful when she smiles._ Bucky’s heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve it… I mean, after yesterday… Just thank you.”

_Smart girl._ She was catching on quickly.

He felt her eyes on him as he carried the tray to the door and locked it behind him. Bucky flew up the stairs, anxious to get everything done so he could get back to her. She wouldn’t be up for sex tonight.

But if he could earn another one of those smiles…

Bucky was in so much trouble.

***

Your heart was still slamming in your chest as you watched him leave your rooms.

James' offer had taken you completely off guard. Since you woke up this morning, he’d petted you, ran you a bath, made you an enormous breakfast, and even asked if you wanted anything while he was out.

The actions of a former assassin who’d murdered you?

No. Not at all. He’d reminded you of a college roommate you once had who fought often with the man she’d ended up marrying. When they made up, and it was usually her fault they fought, she’d have him over for wild sex – you slept with earbuds those nights – and then in the morning, she acted a lot like James had, trying to make him happy.

Trying to make _you_ happy.

You had no idea what to make of it.

But you did have the book.

You waited a few minutes, turning back to the history channel from the news. James didn’t usually forget anything and run back down but you weren’t taking any chances. The history channel was running a documentary on Captain America. You watch benignly with your mind not really on it while the events of the last 24 hours replayed in your head.

Until an old black and white clip played on the widescreen. It was Captain America from the 1940s, an old vintage clip from World War II. Next to him was another man with short dark hair, laughing with the American hero. It was _his_ face that got your attention…

Grabbing for the remote so frantically you dropped it the first time, you tried to hit pause to see if you had that ability.

You did.

Darting off the couch, you scrambled over to the television to take a closer look. You were able to reverse the program too. So you did, taking it back to the top of the clip.

James had smiled at you earlier. Just like that.

_You’re crazy._

_Right?_

But that book you’d found upstairs had a picture of Captain America.

Running back to the bedroom, on tired legs you got on all fours to pull the book from under the bedside table where you hid it. With shaking hands, you carried it back to the couch and stared at the paused screen, showing a man who looked a lot like the man holding you captive laughing with Captain America.

_It couldn’t be. Could it?_

Captain America had received some experimental serum from the army and became the first super-soldier. He was an Avenger now. Bucky Barnes died during the war. You’d read about it in school.

_Bucky Barnes._

Your hands shook so much you were barely able to open the faux leather journal. But there at the top of the inside of the cover, a clearly written name appeared.

James Buchanan Barnes.

_James._

_Oh my God._

How was he still alive?

Turning up the volume of the television, which you usually didn’t do, you played the program. You also put on captions. Then you planted yourself on the floor in front of the screen and paid very close attention.

Sergeant James Barnes was part of the 107th Infantry Regiment in the US Army, shipped out to England just before his best childhood friend Steve Rogers signed up for an experimental program in the same Army. While Steve Rogers became Captain America and put on shows across America to sell war bonds, James Barnes was fighting in the war, finally captured in Azzano in October 1943.

There in captivity, with the men who would become the Howling Commandos, he was viciously beaten by Lohmer, a high-ranking HYDRA colonel. The prisoners arranged an “accident” later to take out the abusive officer. Barnes and his fellow captives worked on various parts of HYDRA’s Valkyrie which they thought could win them the war. When Barnes weakened because of the beatings and poor conditions, he was taken up to the lab to be experimented on by HYDRA scientists.

_Jesus._

In November, Steve Roger infiltrated the facility single-handedly and rescued Barnes and the other captives, returning them to the Italian base shortly thereafter.

_But they experimented on James. What did they do?_

Bucky Barnes had been rescued and joined the infamous Howling Commandos to support Captain America in his campaign to stop HYDRA and they were largely successful. This you remembered from history class.

On a final mission, Bucky Barnes had boarded a train with the intent of capturing HYDRA scientist Arnim Zola. After a skirmish with HYDRA agents, he fell from the train into the Danube River to his alleged death. He gave his life for his country.

The documentary continued talking about Steve Rogers, but you sat on the floor in stunned silence. All the images you just saw of Bucky Barnes convinced you more by the second. James, your captor, looked _exactly_ like Bucky Barnes.

Steve Rogers had been preserved in ice and survived for decades to resurface now, in your time. If that was possible, wasn’t it possible that Bucky Barnes also survived?

What the hell happened? Why had he gone to HYDRA?

How had he lived?

The journal in your lap was the only source of information you had access to at the moment.

It had been several minutes since James had left. You had time.

Both excited and dreading what you might find, you rose from the floor and headed to your bedroom to grab pillows and a blanket from the closet. You got comfortable on the couch just as James suggested and you began reading the journal of James Buchanan Barnes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay on this one. In October I had a charity haunted house I do each year and that was on top of a big work project. I will try to get back to weekly updates here and I do apologize. 
> 
> I've posted two other things recently. One is How to Dismantle Steve Rogers (by Tony Stark) and one is a long fic called Out of Darkness that's about Curtis from Snowpiercer and a reader. Both are here on AO3 and on Tumblr. I'm on Tumblr as jtargaryen18.
> 
> Thank you so much for being patient with me. 🙏🙏🙏

The journal of James Buchanan Barnes was worn from its soft black cover to its slightly frayed pages.

It was divided into sections using colored tabs that had been taped in. There were no dividers or titles for each section, but once you’d started reading – the portions that were in English anyway – it was fairly easy to tell the purpose of each.

Before the first red tab, you found a set of pages that seemed to be lists. Lists of everyday chores, lists of things to buy at the store. Didn’t seem like any secret assassin diary stuff so far.

The blue tab was next. It was there you found the picture of Captain America, cut from a glossy magazine, taped onto the page. It started out looking very much like a high school book report with biographical information about Steve Rogers. His history as everyone knew it, as it was taught in schools. There were pictures from exhibits of the Smithsonian including those for James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d almost skipped on to the next section when you noticed passages, long paragraphs he’d written about Steve Rogers who had been “his best friend.”

He _was_ Bucky Barnes.

The entries were dated erratically, most from 2014 to 2017. Some would go on for pages. Some entries were short, dated months after the last entry. As you started reading them, you realized he was writing down memories. Always with a point of reference.

_“Today I walked past an old woman in a red coat. It reminded me of one our neighbor wore often, and my Ma hated it. Told me only women with bad reputations wore colors like that to draw attention to themselves. I can’t see Ma’s face in my mind. I can’t say for sure what she looked like anymore.”_

_“Girls now wear red all the time. Red lips, red clothes. A girl in a red dress served me coffee at the café around the corner. Offered me her phone number. I can’t be with anyone that way. Not right now.”_

That was 2016. He’d written that he couldn’t be with anyone “that way.” To date? Have a relationship? Was that why he’d taken you?

You read more. His memories, or struggles with them, was a running theme.

_“There’s a lady with a kid with asthma living next door. Kid had an attack playing ball on the street with his friends. I was able to help him, but I don’t know why I knew what to do. Did Steve have asthma? Did one of my sisters?”_

_“The lady ran out when she saw me with him. Corralled him back into the building like I was a threat to her boy. Am I always going to be seen as a monster now?”_

That stopped you cold.

James had been an assassin for HYDRA. What did he expect? The woman whose son he tried to help surely didn’t know that about him, granted. But one only had to look at James to know he was potentially dangerous.

But when he smiled…

When he smiled, he looked younger. Softer. His eyes sparkled. It was so hard to believe he could hurt anyone at times. Like this morning.

He hadn’t hurt _you_.

The last entry was only a few months ago and you read it more than once.

_“Everything feels wrong. I’m part of the Avengers but only because of Steve. He shields me from Fury who doesn’t trust me, from Stark’s kid who understandably hates me. He reminds me I’m in a good place, that I’m stable now. Who the hell is he trying to convince? Me? Or him?”_

Why would SHIELD or the Avengers be okay with a HYDRA assassin in their ranks? Even if he was once Steve Rogers’ best friend?

Stark’s kid? You thought about that. You remembered Howard Stark from the documentary. You were guessing he was referencing Tony Stark then. Why would Tony Stark hate him?

_“Steve’s got me “secured” at the bottom of his house and watches over me. Why? Is it to pay me back for looking out for him all those years in Brooklyn? He doesn’t owe me for that. Hell, I don’t even remember what he looked like in my head before the army got a hold of him. I did that because he was my best friend. My brother at heart. Does he feel like it’s his fault I fell from the train? That those sons of bitches brainwashed me for years? Made me kill for them for seven decades, the innocent and the evil alike like some damn mindless robot?”_

_What?_ Your blood ran cold.

_“Even though Shuri got the controls out of my head, Steve’s afraid one day I’ll lose control. I am too. I guess it’s not a bad thing I’m down here where it’s soundproofed, cameras everywhere, door built to keep me in. I guess I am a threat. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t just take off, disappear into the world like I did when I got free from HYDRA. I wasn’t happy in Bucharest per se when I was on my own. I was lonely. But I did alright.”_

You stopped there, feeling like the room was about to collapse in on you.

_The bottom of his house? Soundproofed. Cameras everywhere. Door built to keep him in._

Was he talking about your rooms? Where _you_ were?

He’d said Steve’s house but for all you know, this could be Steve’s house. _Wow._

You were at the bottom of a house. You didn’t know how soundproofed it was, but you had thought it odd that the only time you could ever hear James in the house was when he was on the stairs right outside the locked door. You never heard him moving around upstairs.

_…door built to keep me in._

Cameras?

Placing the journal carefully down next to you on the floor, open at that entry, you stood up and tried to breathe. You just took in a lot of information there.

Cursing yourself as an idiot, you tore through the rooms, searching the corners, along the walls. You didn’t _see_ any cameras. But you did remember him saying the house was wired with high-tech Stark technology. He’d know if you got out of the room, out of the house…

There had to be something.

It took you a while, but you finally noticed the tiny sensors and lights. You had to look really close but what else did you have to do? They were in each room, even the bathroom. That meant he could see you no matter what you did.

Well, that explained a lot.

Tears of frustration were pooling in your eyes. Swiping at them angrily, you threw yourself down on the couch and then regretted it because your ass still smarted. You just tried to breathe.

_Stop. You were his captive._ Did anything really change in reading that journal?

The journal that you _stole,_ and you decided that you should be careful after what he did to you last night. Every part of you was sore. No way you were up for round two of that right now.

You were still locked in these rooms. Did it matter who owned the house? That there were cameras all along? That it was soundproofed?

_The prison you’re in wasn’t built for you. It was built for_ him _._

The realization was sobering. It was convenient because he used it for you but…

Scrubbing your hands down your face, you decided to think about James. The man you now new as Bucky Barnes. The man the world believed had died when he fell from the bridge into the Danube River.

Dashing back into the bedroom, you lowered yourself to the floor.

James said they’d _brainwashed_ him. Brainwashed him to kill for them like a mindless robot. Then he talked about controls in his head. Was he serious?

_Brainwashed._

Your father had mentioned something about how HYDRA had routinely brainwashed agents and how he’d known about those efforts in his work as a military analyst. The irony was breathtaking. Your father was part of an organization that programmed assassins.

Then a HYDRA assassin had killed you both.

_Wait._

If the world believed James had died when he fell from the bridge, had HYDRA found him then? From what you read in that journal you didn’t think he’d gone with them voluntarily. They made him kill for them for seven decades, a mindless robot.

They’d brainwashed him.

James had been their captive.

He’d still been their assassin in 2014 on that train when he’d killed you and your father. The journal entries were from later in 2014 until earlier this year. So somehow he’d gotten away from them after you died?

That meant they held him from 1945 until 2014? Your mind spun just thinking about it.

James said he was with the Avengers and he’d mentioned missions to you since you’d been here. Just maybe he was with the Avengers right now.

_Oh, God._

The Avengers had been the ones to show up at the airport, capturing Leo and the other man who was going with you to Argentina. The authorities were looking for _you_.

Bucky had been there because he was an Avenger. But he’d smuggled you out of there, back to states. You were hidden in this house and he slept in your bed every night.

If he was with the Avengers why was he keeping secrets from them? Why had he taken _you_?

You had so many questions.

While your mind continued to spin, trying to work through the flood of thoughts and fears, one thought was crystal clear in your mind.

HYDRA made James kill your father and you. James kept telling you that he was going to protect you, that HYDRA had used him to hurt you before. Maybe that meant he hadn’t acted under his own will.

It shouldn’t have made you feel better all things considered. _But it did_.

Taking a steadying breath, you scrambled to pick up the journal and dash into the mostly empty closet. You closed the door mostly behind you, leaving it slightly open to give you a little light. There was a high shelf there and it was empty. You placed the journal up there and slid it back into the corner, praying he wasn’t watching you right now and didn’t know you had his journal.

James had been happy. He’d wanted you to nap, rest.

_Oh, God._ How were you going to act like you didn’t know any of this? How were you going to keep from asking him any of the million questions racing through your brain?

You knew you could confront him but… He’d mentioned in the journal that Steve had been afraid he’d lose control and he himself had too. What if you somehow pushed him over the edge? What if he had a psychotic break of some kind? He could kill you again, get rid of you. The Avengers didn’t know.

_James would never hurt you._

Maybe you could just pay close attention from this point on. Listen to what he told you, see if he unwittingly gave you any of the answers you wanted.

Closing the closet door, you went back out to the living room, and stretched out on the couch, getting comfortable. With any luck, he’d just think you’d been sleeping. He wouldn’t have reason to comb back through video.

You honestly tried to take a nap, half-watching a documentary on General Patton and the Pacific theatre of World War II.

But your mind wouldn’t turn off. Your mind couldn’t get around one thought and it broke your heart more than a little.

James had been a captive too. HYDRA’s captive for seventy years.

***

[Steve’s girl]

Nat held her sleepy little daughter in the makeshift nursery she’d set up in medical. Bette’s mother had made it and they were catching up in her room next door. You’d followed Steve and Nat here, laughing at them as they went over reports in between Nat cooing at Delilah and talking about all her little firsts.

You loved seeing Nat so happy.

Bette was doing well too. Looking forward to getting her figure back and mapping out her future. Considering how Bette had been when you’d rediscovered her, pregnant and alone, you were glad you’d made the decision you had.

“What are you so deep in thought about?” Steve smiled at you over his reports.

“Just thinking I was happy how things have turned out,” you admitted. It was true.

You didn’t miss the smile shared between Steve and Nat.

“I feel the same way,” Nat told you, her smile beautiful. “I wouldn’t have my Delilah if not for you and Bette. You want to hold her for a little while?”

“Of course,” you said, holding out your arms.

You took the baby from her, a little nervous because it had been a while since you’d held a baby. After a moment, you got comfortable, had the tiny baby girl snuggled in your arms.

“Steve?” Nat tried to get his attention when she sat back down.

Steve’s gaze was on you, the softest smile on his lips. Oh, you _knew_ what he was thinking.

“Steve?”

“Huh?” Like he just remembered Nat was in the room, he returned his attention to his friend.

“The last report?” Nat smirked at him. “What would you like to do there?”

“Hey,” Bucky greeted as he slipped through the door.

His blue eyes swept the room, moving from Steve and Nat to you. When he spotted the baby, he smiled.

Nat’s eyes narrowed. “You’re in trouble, Barnes.”

Pulling a chair next to you, he put his hands up defensively. “I’m sorry, Natalia,” he sounded contrite. “I had to deal with something.”

“A refrigerator?” Folding her arms across her chest, she glared him down. “You missed the birth.”

“I’m really sorry,” he offered. “I mean that.”

Bucky’s gaze moved back to Delilah, looking her over.

“Is everything okay?” Steve got into the conversation. “You never came back.”

Bucky nodded, not looking away from the baby. “I’m sorry. I got into it and I lost track of time.” Pulling the glove off his flesh hand, he reached out with a gentle finger to trace the baby girl’s cheek. “She’s beautiful. What did you name her?”

“Delilah.” That took a little of the wind out of Nat’s sails. “Yes, she is. And perfectly healthy.”

“She is,” Bucky nodded.

“You want to hold her?” you asked him, smiling.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Don’t think that’s such a good idea. Don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I,” you told him. And you were passing Delilah over to him after he peeled off his jacket. The panic in his eyes at first had you giggling. But after some adjusting and your help, Bucky sat next to you, Delilah tucked into the crook of his own arm, sleeping soundly.

“See? You’ve got this,” you told him.

After a couple of minutes, he relaxed. Steve watched his friend with so much pride in his blue eyes and Nat didn’t look concerned at all that her baby was being held by a self-professed semi-stable former assassin.

“Is Bette doing okay?” Bucky asked as Steve and Nat compared notes on the reports Steve was sorting through.

You appreciated him asking after your friend. “Bette’s doing great.”

Bucky nodded, leaning down to get a close look at Delilah. When he did you saw it. Another long, glossy hair clung to Bucky’s shoulder, the same color as the one you’d seen before.

While Steve and Nat seemed occupied for the moment, you carefully captured it with your fingers, pulling it free of him. Bucky caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“She must be lovely,” you whispered, knowing he had super hearing like his best friend. He heard you.

Bucky actually blushed.

Letting the hair drift to the floor, you caught Steve’s very interested gaze. You realized he’d heard you too.

“When do you guys get to take her home?” Bucky asked, cutting off that line of conversation. 

“Dr. Snow said tomorrow,” Nat told him. “Tony’s over there now making sure the security system is updated and ready. I can’t wait.”

“I’m happy for you,” Bucky told her. “I think you’re going to make a great mother.”

“She will,” Steve agreed.

The sadness that crossed her beautiful face had your heart squeezing in your chest. Yes, she had Delilah now. But she remembered Kara too from that lost timeline. You knew Nat would always love Kara. That was her daughter too.

“Let’s hope,” Nat said with a slow smile. “And she’ll have the world’s craziest set of overprotective aunts and uncles.”

“And some cousins hopefully,” Steve directed at you, his gaze heated.

“So did you get the refrigerator situation all squared away?” you asked Bucky to change the subject.

Bucky shrugged. “I should be able to finish it up today. I’m heading for the hardware store on my way back.”

“Need some help, Buck?” Steve offered. And you could just tell the question was a lot more than a simple offer to help.

Bucky knew it too.

“I’m okay, Steve,” he countered. “Thanks though.”

Steve nodded, let it drop.

Delilah slept on happily against Bucky while you all quietly talked.

***

When you woke up, you were covered by a thick, soft blanket that wasn’t there when you stretched out.

James was back.

You stretched, glancing over to see he’d left you a present. There on the coffee table was a beautiful potted Peace Lily plant and you couldn’t help but smile. It was gorgeous and well-cared for in a clay pot it wouldn’t take long to outgrow. The dark green petals were glossy, the lilies delicate and white.

It made your heart happy to see it.

Sitting up slowly, you turned it around so you could get a good look at all of it. You didn’t immediately realize that James was in the room, crouching in the floor next to an enormous toolbox.

“You like it?” he asked, his blue eyes swinging in your direction.

“It’s beautiful,” you answered honestly, smiling. “Thank you.”

James’ face lit up at that. “I’m glad. I had no idea what to get so I went with the prettiest one there.”

Your gaze moved over him as he scoped out the area along the wall where he crouched.

“I’m going to bring down that refrigerator for you,” he explained, sensing your interest. “Get it installed. Got you a microwave too.”

James had explained that it was so you could keep food in your rooms. So you could feed yourself while he was gone on missions.

_With the Avengers?_

_Stop. Focus._

Taking a deep breath, you forced the words out.

“Are you always going to keep me down here?” you tried to make your voice small, humble.

James’ expression was wary as his gaze searched your face. You knew he could read you very well, so you just tried to keep your mind clear.

Rising from the floor, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and slowly made his way over to join you on the couch. Once he was sitting next to you, he took your hand in his. His hand was warm.

“You know, you just tried to break out of here yesterday,” James said with a smirk.

_Fuck._ You had.

“You want away from me _that_ bad?”

The sadness in those sharp blue-gray eyes flooded you with guilt, knowing what you knew now.

“No, I didn’t mean… that.” You dropped your gaze to your hand in his. “From what you said, I’m not free because of _them_ … because of HYDRA.” Your mind was a mess, you’d started shaking now. “Am I always going to have to be hidden away?”

“Hey, come here.” James wrapped his arms around you, pulled you against him. You felt him pressing kisses into your hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry how things are right now.”

_Were_ you _locked away like this, James? What did they do to_ you _?_

And here he was. Comforting _you._

He was also the one who’d taken you in the first place.

Everything was such a mess. Your emotions were all over the place.

“It won’t be forever,” he whispered close to your ear.

That you’d be staying with him, you understood. But then what? Would you be upstairs? Would you ever be able to leave the house?

Easing back from you, he palmed the side of your face, brushing away a tear with his thumb.

“You feel okay?” Concern crept into his expression.

You _were_ sore.

“You know that’s a whirlpool tub in there,” he offered. “I could turn that on for you. Might make you feel better.”

Your interest must have shown on your face. James smiled then, you liked that smile, and headed in that direction.

The moment he was in another room, your façade dropped. What you’d learned changed everything. Part of you wanted to demand to know why he’d taken you from the airport. If he was an Avenger now, and you suspected he was, why was he hiding you from them?

Another part of you? Another part of you wanted to ask if your suspicions were true. Had he been their captive for seven decades? What had they done to him?

Part of the reason James had been so angry with you for trying to escape was the possibility that HYDRA could find you. That took on a whole other meaning now.

_They’d do a lot fucking worse than what I’m going to do._

“Baby doll?”

_Baby doll_. That was new.

But it was good. It let you know he wasn’t upset.

He walked back around the couch, scooping you up carefully and carrying you, bridal style into the bathroom. You were so lost in your thoughts, you let him place you on your feet. You held up your arms so he could pull off your hoodie and you just let him pull down your jeans, your panties.

“Shit,” he muttered, his own fingers tracing over the light bruises littering your thighs and hips. “Doll, I’m sorry…”

You followed the line of his gaze, but everything was preying on your mind. You didn’t feel them.

“I’ve got to be more careful,” he said, looking genuinely upset.

_No, you couldn’t deal with that right now._ You were in an emotional no-man’s land right now and the last thing you could deal with was James being upset on top of that. What if his journal entry was right? What if he was unstable?

You had no way to find out what happened to him unless he told you himself. Not under your current circumstances.

You shuddered and he took that to mean you were cold. “Let’s get you in the tub.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he guided you to the tub, helped you in. Gone was the soft smile, the caring demeanor. You knew he was upset with himself right now. You needed to fix that. You needed him to be okay until you could get your mind and emotions sorted.

“I’ll, ah, I’ll go make us something to eat,” he muttered as he was already heading for the door.

“James?” You felt a weird sense of panic rising watching him walk away.

He stopped in the doorway, turned around.

“Don’t go,” you bid him. “Please? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

You didn’t.

His gaze met yours and oh, he was studying you hard. The crazy blend of doubt and hope in his eyes messed with your insides, made you believe that keeping him here with you was the right call.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, James came back and sat on the edge of the tub. There were no bubbles on the water to hide you from him and at the moment, you honestly didn’t care.

You did care that his gaze was back on the marks he’d left on you.

“It doesn’t hurt.” You just said it. The hot, bubbling water did feel good on your aching muscles though.

“Still no excuse,” James said before blowing out an exhale. “You okay, doll? You seem like… you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

_Oh, I really fucking do._

“Just worrying about my future,” you decided to stick close to the truth. “I’m sorry… I’m sure it’s just because I’m tired. I’ll do better.”

“Don’t worry,” his hand smoothed over your hair, down over the back of your neck. “I told you, I’m going to keep you safe.”

And he was serious. He was _so_ serious.

You had no idea what HYDRA did to him. It had to have been bad. What if his intention in all this really was to protect _you_ from them in a way he couldn’t the first time?

His hand stayed at the top of your back, his touch gentle. Comforting.

You wanted more.

Shifting in the water, you got on your knees, turning to face him. He stiffened in surprise when you pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly, patiently. In seconds he relaxed, started kissing you back. Your tongue met his, your arms snaked up around his neck, keeping him there.

After a moment, he broke the kiss. “You need to rest tonight,” he whispered against your lips.

“No, just… Just let me,” your tone was pleading.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt and you worked it up his powerful torso. He helped you pull it off, watching you with uncertain eyes when your fingers started plucking at the button of his jeans.

“Doll…”

When he wasn’t cooperating with you on removing his jeans, you decided you’d make him _want_ to remove them. You claimed his mouth again before kissing your way to his neck, remembering how much he’d enjoyed that. You chained kisses down to his shoulders, smoothing your hands over the muscled wall of his chest, the subtle ridges of many scars beneath your fingers. Each one a badge of pain that he may have suffered through no fault of his own.

His hands came up, warm and cold to smooth over your back, through your hair.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his eyes closed as your lips feathered back up to just under his ear. When you nipped at the lobe lightly with his teeth, he hummed.

“You won’t,” you promised, your hands returning to tug on his jeans. “Please.”

You knew the minute he figured out what you wanted and pulled from your grasp only long enough to pull off his jeans, boxers, socks, and shoes. When he moved back to the tub, you guided him to sit on the edge, with his lower legs in the water.

When you slotted yourself between his thick, sculpted thighs, his hands found your shoulders to gently stop you.

“Hey.” He waited until your gaze met his. “You don’t have to.”

But he _wanted_ you to. His cock hard and ready against his abs and you got your hands and mouth on him then, stroking the length of him with one hand while your other hand went to his swollen sac below it. His mouth dropped open when you pulled the head of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him until he was squirming in your hands.

“Your mouth is heaven,” he whispered. “Goddamn…”

Those gorgeous eyes stayed on you. You _wanted_ him to watch. You teased the shaft of him with long, slow strokes of your tongue, enjoying the way his thighs trembled and tensed on either side of you as you worked.

When you reached his balls, well, you remembered how much he’d liked _that_. You teased him relentlessly with your lips and tongue, learning just how much pressure he liked, discovered what left him breathless by the deep moans above you and the way his fingers tightened in your hair.

Finally, he’d had enough, guiding your head back to his cock which was swollen and angry from the strokes you’d deliberately kept light with your hand. You bobbed your head on him as you worked him into your mouth, deeper until he was meeting the back of your throat.

“Baby doll, I’m…” he was gasping above you.

But you knew how close he was. Doubling your efforts, you worked him until he was shaking, until you felt him curling around you, his fingers tugging at your hair in earnest. His low groan almost became a sobbing sound as he came and your worked him through it with your mouth and hands, swallowing him down.

James was trembling when you eased back from him, his thighs shook as he climbed down into the tub with you, pulling you into his lap.

“That was… incredible, doll,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your temple. “Give me a minute to catch my breath… and I’ll make us something to eat.”

Laying your head on his shoulder, you tightened your grip on him. “Not hungry… Don’t want you to leave me.”

The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with the storm of thoughts raging in your head right now.

“You’re going to eat,” he said firmly, his hands caressing your back. “Hey,” his fingers found your chin, tipped it up until your gaze met his. “You like pizza?”

You smiled and nodded. Pizza could be delivered. He wouldn’t gone long at all.

“Want me to do that? I can have pizza delivered for us tonight?”

“Please,” you whispered.

James smiled. It was back.

He leaned down to kiss you until your heart was hammering and your breath came fast.


End file.
